


Forgotten

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When all is lost, and your love has been forgotten, how can you go on?</p><p> </p><p>Written 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, amnesia.

**Prologue**  
  
 **2000  
**  
Ron was late. So very late that he was afraid he might actually lose his job if he wasn't in the Auror HQ for even one further second. Considering that he and Harry were still the golden boys of the ministry, and could do no wrong, it put testament to just how late that made him.  
  
It wasn't his fault that that morning he had woken up to a flooded kitchen, and an irate downstairs neighbour thumping on his door wanting to know quite why her kitchen ceiling was approaching her kitchen floor. Ron had fixed the burst pipe the second she had gone away, and vanished all the water and restored everything to rights. But then he had been forced to go and grovel, direct her out of the way whilst he repaired her ceiling, and then done a highly illegal memory modification. If work found out the real reason he was late he would most certainly lose his job.  
  
Plus, his day was made so much worse the apparition restrictions on him. He had been hit by a curse the week before battling a new vampire coven in the south -and they were no ordinary vampires. They were vampires with a wand, too. Ron had nearly died, but then that was nothing new -it seemed he had spent half of his life 'nearly' dying, and wondered quite what it would take to push him over the edge.  
  
Hurrying through the Floo portal at breakneck speed, he wasn't looking where he was going, who he passed or what his bag bouncing on his shoulder was doing. Finally the fireplaces came into view and he breathed a sigh of relief. Ron wasn't headed to the Ministry, he was headed away on another stakeout. They had tried to force him onto leave but Ron didn't want that -there was nothing worse than being left alone with your bad memories to post mortem them.  
  
But his apparition restrictions made it hard to travel. He was in Muggle dress, his jeans scruffy, trainers decrepit, his long coat the only respectable item of clothing he wore.   
  
“I need a Floo to Manchester,” he said to the bored looking woman tending the tickets and Floo Powder.  
“Next Floo in half an hour.”  
“But I’m already-”  
“Next Floo in half an hour, I can't put one on for people who think they're special, you know.”  
  
Growling in his throat Ron threw her his best unimpressed glare (which he was well aware generally just  made him look like a rather angry carrot) and whirled around, only to collide with a thin body. It fell immediately to the floor with a pained moan from the man he had just smashed into.  
  
“Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry,” Ron breathed, dropping to a crouch and reaching out to the man. “Are you hurt?”  
“No more than I already was,” though the voice was quiet, had some wheeze in the delivery and was much reduced, it still sent a shiver down Ron's spine to realise who he had just knocked over.  
  
He looked into the face of the man, which was half covered by his dark hair, and blushed.  
  
“Professor, I'm sorry,” he repeated, and held out his hand to help Severus Snape off the floor.  
“Snape will suffice, Weasley, I am no longer your Professor, or anybody's, for that matter,” Snape groused as Ron gently helped him to standing.  
“Right, of course,” Ron blustered, his blush growing deeper.  
  
As the man took his weight on his own two feet, Ron noticed that all of his limbs were trembling, that his face was deathly pale.  
  
“Are you alright?” he had to work hard not to affix 'sir' to the end of his sentence.  
“No,” Snape answered him bluntly. “I could have done without a fall this morning.”  
  
Ron guiltily took a step back and carded a hand through his hair, which was damp from his hurried shower and surely drying in a million mad ways to make him look even more of a disgrace at that moment.  
  
“I need to... sit down,” Snape said finally, his hand tightening on the front of his robes.   
Ron immediately helped him to the nearest bench, though getting there was hard through the busy station and the amount of rushing people. All thoughts of the next timed Floo journey and work had flown from his mind as he lowered the man onto the bench and saw the relieved look in the pale face.  
  
“Can I get you something to drink?” Ron dropped his bag on the bench next to the man. “Tea, coffee? You look like you need one.”  
“Tea, white, sugar,” Snape confirmed, dropping his head forward and closing his eyes.  
“I'll just be a tic,” Ron assured him, and began to walk to the nearest café.  
  
His mind was swimming, trying to remember the last time he had seen Snape. After the war, when he had been found barely alive in the Shrieking Shack, Harry had had a hard time protesting the man's innocence, and he had kept out of Azkaban by the skin of his teeth. After that had all cleared, and Harry had somehow worked a miracle, the man had to all intents and purposes disappeared, though he was still active in the magical community. It had been about a year before his potions selling business opened just off Diagon Alley, and by all accounts that Ron could see, from passing the shop, seeing the adverts in the paper, the business was doing well.  
  
“Two teas, white, sugar,” he said automatically to the girl over the counter, and lost himself in his thoughts whilst she worked.  
  
Snape looked so ill. Ron had no idea whether his health was still affected by the injuries he had sustained in the war, or if there were now other ailments making him unwell.  
  
“Thank you,” Ron shoved a few sickles across the counter and hoped it was enough, he had no other change.  
  
He should have gone to the bank, he'd be poor on stakeout with no money, but he didn't think about walking to Gringotts in his spare time, only getting Snape his tea.  
  
“Here,” Ron perched on the bench next to him and handed over the polystyrene cup. “I hope it doesn't taste like cat's piss.”  
  
Ron was surprised when a dark chuckle came out of the thin man next to him. “Thank you, Weasley.”  
“Ron,” Ron made a face and popped the lid off his cup. “Only my boss calls me Weasley these days.”  
  
Snape didn't reply but Ron didn't miss the sideways glance, the steady sweep of the onyx eyes over his messy form.  
  
“I'm having one hell of a morning,” Ron muttered in explanation.  
“You and me both,” Snape informed him and took a mouthful of tea. “Not like cat's piss at all.”  
“Well, something's gone right, then,” Ron sighed happily, with a wry grin.  
  
Snape hummed his agreement and said no more. Ron wasn't sure why, but he felt incredibly peaceful, despite the humdrum way of his life that day, sitting on the bench with his ex-Professor.  
  
“Tell me about yourself since the war,” the question came softly and Ron swallowed, readying himself to answer.  
  
  
  
  
 **Chapter One**  
  
 **2005**  
Ron was aware of both of his hands encased in human warmth. Soft skin caressed his in two separate rhythms, and two low mumbles accompanied the touches. Whether they were talking to him, or to each other, he had no idea, but the way his hands felt so loved made him feel humble.  
  
Everything in his body seemed to be failing. Breathing brought an immense amount of pain and he couldn't contemplate moving. Whilst the hands held him so lovingly he had no inclination to bother.  
  
“His eyelids are fluttering.”  
  
 _Harry._  
  
“They've not done that since he was first injured,” Harry spoke with infectious excitement. “Should I get a Healer?”  
  
A low voice that Ron did not recognise answered in the affirmative, and he wanted to scream in protest when the warmth on his left fingers suddenly disappeared. There were footsteps, the sound of a door opening and closing, and then tense silence.  
  
“Ron? Can you hear me?” the low voice asked him, and suddenly there was a roughened palm on his face, stroking his cheek with the same reverence that had held his hand. “If you can hear me, Ron, please talk to me...”  
“I can.”  
  
The words sounded right to Ron but to the mystery man by his bed they seemed to be gibberish, as he asked again.  
  
“Ron? Can you hear me?”  
  
The voice did not ask again, and Ron was glad, because the fear in the tone scared him. Suddenly the door banged open again and there were more footsteps, more voices, and Ron lost track of who was who.  
  
“Mr. Weasley, if you can hear what we're saying, can you give us some sort of sign?”  
  
Ron tried to speak, to answer the woman, but his lips only moved. However, that alone seemed to be enough, the room was suddenly loud with excited whoops and gasps of 'oh my god' and breathless joy.  
  
It was too much. He was glad they were happy but the sounds melted his brain, and he willingly embraced the darkness which came to him again.  
  
***  
  
When the time came, opening his eyes was easy. He simply took a deep breath and rose the shutters on his slumber. The room was dim, candles were alight in their brackets, and beyond the one window the sky was dark. Turning his head ached his neck, and he did not know where to look first. There were two men by his bed. One of whom was asleep, and the other was looking pointedly out of the window, lost deep in thought -he had not noticed Ron's awakening.  
  
“Harry?” Ron's voice was a low croak as he spoke his first word.   
  
The man jumped, head snapping around so fast he had to have cricked his neck. But if he did, Harry didn't let it stop him from leaping out of his chair and landing on the side of the bed, snatching Ron's hand up and clutching it to his chest.  
  
“Are you there? Answer me,” he demanded wildly.  
“I'm here, Harry, what is it...”  
“You were... at work, you got cursed...”  
“Vampires?”  
“Fucking whores, the lot of them,” Harry's face took on a dark look and Ron recoiled. “They're gone,” Harry soothed him when he wrongly interpreted the expression.  
  
Ron swallowed, his throat sore, and then his eyes slid to the other man.  
  
“Harry? What's Snape doing here?”  
  
Completely confused, Ron's features fell into a natural frown and he peered at the slumped man. Snape looked older than he remembered, his face pale and somewhat lined even in his slumber. His whole posture was defeated, his hair falling in a dark curtain over his face. One hand was covering his lips, as though it tried to hold back a wave of words or vomit.  
  
“What do you mean 'what's he doing here'? He's not left your side!” Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, as he leant forward and brushed Ron's hair out of his eyes. “He's been here every day by your bedside, holding your hand and praying for you to wake up. Just like the rest of us, except he's not left at all.”  
“Why?” Ron asked.  
“Ron, he loves you, you silly muppet! Did you think he'd just give up loving you because you were stupid enough to save your work partner from a potentially fatal curse?”  
  
“What?” Ron whispered, eyes wide. Snape loved him? Harry had to have something wrong with his mind -Ron wondered if he too had been injured during the raid.  
“Ron, you're worrying me,” Harry pulled back slightly. “Severus has been so worried about you, he needs to know you're all right, I'm going to wake him up.”  
“What, no!” Ron protested. “Tell me what the fuck he's doing here before you do that, so I can...”  
  
Harry climbed off the bed then, emerald eyes wide as they swung between Ron in the bed and Snape in the chair, and Ron looked back at him, waiting for an explanation for what he was finding an extremely uncomical joke.  
  
“You don't... you don't remember him?” Harry asked in a voice no heavier than a wisp.  
“What am I remembering?” Ron shrugged and then moaned in pain. “Fuck.”  
  
His swear was louder than anything he had spoken so far, and suddenly the man asleep in the chair jumped, and straightened up, his dark eyes taking in the scene before him.  
  
“Godric, is he-?” Snape looked to Harry for confirmation, as though he wouldn't believe his own eyes.  
“Awake,” Harry said. “But Severus-”  
  
Ron blinked in confusion. Harry had never called him Severus, only ever Snape, more often than not spoken with a sneer or a droll eye roll, and to hear his best friend use the man's given name was discomfiting.  
  
He couldn't move away when the slender man sprang from his chair and launched at the bed, snatching up both of Ron's hands and pressing his lips to the knuckles, kissing as his face crumpled in relief.  
  
“You stupid bastard,” Snape was muttering. “You stupid, foolish bastard, how dare you step in front of a curse like that and nearly get yourself taken away from me? I can't believe you!”  
  
Ron was immediately indignant at the insults and he tried to take his hands away and found that he didn't have the strength. Severus suddenly stopped kissing him and condemning him and looked to Harry.  
  
“Severus, he doesn't... I don't think he...”  
“Hey,” Ron said suddenly, his sapphire eyes locking onto something which sent his heart pounding in alarm.  
  
On each of their hands, on their ring fingers, were two almost identical gold bands, etched with official bonding magic, and an engraving of their initials. In the middle of the ornate RW and SS initials, on his own ring sat a minuscule black stone, it shone in the candle light. In Snape's sat a tiny sapphire, which positively gleamed.  
  
“What the hell are these?” he tugged his hands free of Severus' to pull the ring off his finger.  
  
It was snug, fitting him perfectly, and his fingers swollen in his illness made getting the band off hard work. He managed it, but it had him panting in his depleted physical state, and he looked at it in horror.  
  
“That's your wedding ring,” Harry said quietly. “You and Severus are married…”  
  
Ron saw white spots in his vision then, his heart accelerating beyond safe levels.  
  
“Get a healer,” Severus instructed, his voice ringing out over the hospital room. “Now, Harry, please!”  
  
Ron laughed then, feeling delirious -Snape would never say 'please' to Harry, he and Harry hated one another, and they always would. Warmth enclosed his hand again and Ron pulled it away.  
  
“No,” he muttered, lolling his head on the pillow. “Get off me.”  
  
The ring had fallen from his grasp when the heat had come, and he wondered where it had fallen.  
  
“Ron, please,” Severus' voice was a quiet beg. “Don't you remember? Remember that you love me? That we're married, and live together?”  
“No!” Ron shook his head violently.  
“Out of the way,” a woman snapped.  
  
“He doesn't remember his husband,” Harry was explaining. “Not the wedding band, not anything, apparently. He doesn't know why he's here.”  
“God,” the Healer breathed. “We warned you that this was a possibility but none of us thought that it... Oh God.”  
“What?” Severus asked, Ron could tell the question came through gritted teeth.  
“This is not good.”  
  
***  
  
Ron was lying, rather sedated, on his bed. They had lowered his temperature, given him calming draughts, and yet still Severus Snape sat by his bedside, pale, unshaven, looking like hell.  
  
“Why are you here?” Ron asked, for what might have been the thousandth time.  
“Because,” Severus gave the same answer.  
“But I don't understand why you're with me...”  
“Because we have been in a relationship for the past five years,” Severus groaned, dropping his face into his hand.  
“Five years?” Ron asked in disbelief. “I... I'm not...”  
“Gay?” Severus asked warily.  
  
Ron snorted. “I know I’m gay, you kind of know that when you're watching boys in the showers.”  
“So you... you know that you're gay,” Severus swallowed. “Do you remember how we met?”  
  
Ron didn't need to search his memory -he simply knew that it would not be there. “No.”  
“God.”  
  
Severus did not come forth with an explanation and Ron didn't press for one. Why everyone was playing the ridiculous game with him, he had no idea, but everyone seemed to be convinced that Severus was his husband. Harry had even produced some rather convincing looking documents to prove it, but Ron couldn't believe it. Harry had eventually left, obviously close to tears, to get their mum and dad.  
  
He was looking forward to their arrival, hoping that they alone would be able to get rid of the man from his room. He was making Ron exceedingly nervous.  
  
“You knocked me over,” Severus said quietly. “In the Floo Portal in London. You were running late for work and you ploughed into me. I was very ill, and you bought me a cup of tea. We talked. We parted. We ran into each other a week later in the same portal, you made an awful joke about 'we must stop meeting like this'. You bought me another cup of tea, and then you asked if I would like a drink one night. We went from there.”  
“That's bollocks,” Ron said simply. “Why the fuck would I ask you out for a drink?”  
“I have never understood why,” Severus' lips were in almost a laugh. “Never understood why you would want me, why you wanted to love me. But you did, Ron.”  
  
It was very obvious from the set of the man's face that Severus hoped for Ron to correct him with the word 'do'.  
  
The tension was broken by the door swinging open again and his parents charging through the door, followed by his second eldest brother. His bed was converged upon, hands touched him but he felt separate from his body.  
  
“Oh fucking Merlin,” Charlie's voice rumbled in his ear. “Ron, you've scared the shit out of me, you little turd.”  
  
When his brother pulled away, and Ron was stunned to see tears coursing down the broad cheeks and red ruining the amber-brown eyes, he was even more shocked. Molly had thrown herself at Severus and was sobbing freely onto his shoulder. If that wasn't enough, the fact that the slender man was holding her back nearly knocked Ron back out.  
  
“Molly,” Harry laid a hand on her shoulder. “There's something you should know.”  
“What's to know?” she cried happily, turning and grabbing Ron's cheeks in her hands. “He's back, they said if he woke up he'd be fine, and he's alive, Harry.”  
“He doesn't-”  
“I've missed you so much, Ron,” she breathed, kissing his forehead. “You gave us one almighty scare. You're not doing that bloody job any longer, I’m putting my foot down -enough is enough. And Severus agrees with me so you know I have back up. This is the last time I’m nearly losing you!”  
  
“Molly,” Harry tried again.  
“And now you're back, my sweetheart, oh, I was just so worried, Ron, I thought we were going to lose you and I haven't got it in me for another funeral.”  
  
“He doesn't remember me,” Severus' voice was broken as it rose above the others in the room, which suddenly fell deadly quiet.  
“What?” Charlie blinked, looking between Ron and Severus. “Don't be daft, Sev!”  
  
Ron frowned, another colloquialism. His brother had a nickname for the man by his bedside. None of his brothers liked Severus Snape -the man cut off George's ear, and they had never forgiven him.  
  
“He didn't recognise the wedding bands,” Severus held the one Ron had removed between his fingers and looked at it in fear. “He took it off.”  
“Ron, stop being ridiculous,” Molly rounded on him. “This is your husband.”  
“I don't have a husband!” Ron burst out. “And if I did, why on earth would it be Severus fucking Snape? Has anybody actually looked at him?!”  
  
His disgusted expression left nothing to the imagination as to his thoughts on the man's appearance, Ron knew, but he couldn't understand why they were all playing such a cruel trick on him.   
  
Every face in the room had turned ashen, and they all looked at Ron with horrified expressions.  
  
“You love him,” Charlie stammered. “You've loved him for five years.”  
“Stop lying,” Ron begged, as his head began to thump. “I can't have.”  
“You have,” Harry insisted. “You love him, you married him, you made us all love him too.”  
“We had to,” Charlie shot a look at Severus. “Or we were going to lose you, because you loved him so fucking much. When we couldn't adapt you told us that if we didn't learn to get used to it then you were leaving with him, and you weren't coming back. Don't you remember this, Ron? It was huge. We all rowed for weeks.”  
  
“Because you couldn't accept it?” Ron asked.  
“No, because you didn't believe us when we said we would!” his Father spoke for the first time. “You were sure it was a ruse and we would turn on you, you wanted to leave for a new life in Italy. With Severus.”  
“And what was your part in that?” Ron narrowed his eyes and turned to the man. “Were you pressuring me?”  
“It was y-your idea,” Severus whispered. “Every bit of it. I wanted you to stay.”  
“Yeah, right,” Ron laughed.  
  
How would he have ever have decided to give up his family for the man by his bed?  
  
“I have to go,” Severus breathed suddenly, his spine going rigid, his fingers clenching to a fist; Ron assumed the ring was in the middle of one of them.  
  
He immediately walked to the door of the room, slim hips weaving around the family members filling the small space.  
  
“Severus?” Harry reached out and touched his arm. “Are you-”  
  
Harry couldn't even finish his sentence, the man had swept from the room. Ron released a sigh of breath and dropped his head back on the pillow.  
  
“Thank fuck for that, he was making me feel so uncomfortable. So come on, what the fuck is this all about? Have you all gone mad? What kind of joke was that?”  
“One that wasn't a joke at all,” Charlie dropped into one of the chairs and looked back at him in horror.  
“Funny,” Ron raised his eyebrows but stopped when he realised it ached.  
  
“Mr Weasley?” the Junior Healer popped her head around the door. “The Senior is here to speak to you now. You might like to get your husband in for this conversation.”  
“I don't have a husband,” Ron said simply.  
  
His mother dissolved into tears.  
  
***  
  
“I don't want to talk about it,” Ron shrugged, leaning back on his pillows.  
“Well you're going to,” Bill growled at him, looking far more menacing with his werewolf scars than he ever would have before. “Whatever game you're playing at, you have to stop.”  
“I'm playing a game now?” Ron asked incredulously. “Funny, I'm pretty convinced that's what you're all doing.”  
  
It had been two days and Ron was beginning to get frustrated to the point of tears. Everybody he met insisted that Severus Snape was his husband, that they had been in love to the point of his attack, and that they were married. Ron had not seen his so-called wedding band since the man had left the night of his awakening.  
  
Whatever reasons had made Snape stay away, Ron was glad. He would return soon, he was sure of it, but until then dealing with his mad family was far easier.  
  
“I have proof,” Bill shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. “If you'll let me show it to you?”  
  
Ron paused. He didn't want to see anything which might make their game fabricated reality.  
  
“Whether you want it or not,” Bill said simply, and reached out to place his hands on either side of Ron's thumping head. His fingers were cool and and felt heavenly, but a second later they sent an influx of information which hurt Ron more than all of his injuries put together.  
  
He suddenly saw himself, younger, maybe twenty. He was at The Burrow, holding hands with Snape. In contrast to the man's pale face his own was red with anger, his eyes were bright and slightly wet.  
  
 _“If they can't accept this then fuck the lot of 'em, Severus... I mean it... the one time I need them to be accepting, the one time I need them to do something for fucking me and they... Oh...”  
_  
Vision-Ron broke off and stuffed his tear-stained face into Snape's shoulder. The man held him tightly, one hand gently stroking his hair -just like Ron had felt when he had been asleep earlier in the week.  
  
The pictures shifted and he saw himself in dress robes; the deep blue fabric made his eyes stand out.  
  
 _“My husband...”_ Vision-Ron smirked, wrapping his arms somewhat seductively around Severus' waist, who smirked back. _“Now that we're no longer living in sin, it's somewhat boring...”_  
  
They both laughed before meeting in a kiss. Ron was fascinated and disgusted at the same time, seeing himself locked into something so deep and soulful. Not able to tear his eyes away but wanting to, he waited until the pictures moved again. What he saw was no more calming.  
  
 _“I'm going to go on stakeout,”_ Vision-Ron was lying completely naked save for a white sheet tangled around his waist. Severus was much the same, and Ron wondered how Bill had access to such a memory. _“And when I come back, we're going to go on holiday and forget everyone for three weeks.”_  
 _“Sounds perfect,”_ Vision-Severus pulled him close, into another kiss.  
  
The intimacy and love was clear to see; Ron couldn't deny that. It simply turned his stomach to see him kissing the man in the first place.  
  
Bill pulled away then, his eyes calculating Ron's reaction. “Severus gave me the last one; he wanted you to have proof that you were intimate together. I'm sorry,” Bill lowered his face. “That I had to see it, you are… oddly private when it comes to your life with him.”  
“Not surprised, wouldn't you be if you were stupid enough to kiss that ugly mug every day?” Ron snorted, laughing, and he expected one in return.  
  
“Can't you at least think before you speak?” Bill hissed, his face pale. “Even if you don't believe us at the moment, can't your fucking brain figure out that whilst everybody else does believe it, you're hurting them with that shit? And if you're hurting us, then you're fucking _killing_ Severus.”  
  
Bill's mouth was open to speak again but there was a curt knock on the door before it swung open, and Ron nearly groaned. Severus was standing there, still unshaven, hair greasy, face set in a stony grimace of acceptance.  
“Severus, I don't think that you...”  
“What time will be better than this?” Severus sank into the chair on the other side of the bed and set down his bag. Immediately he reached for Ron's hand, and didn't release it when he tried to pull it away. “No,” Severus explained simply. “You will let me do this.”  
  
Ron looked to Bill for help as his hand was wordlessly raised to Severus' lips and kissed, but Bill offered him no support.  
  
“Stoppit,” Ron growled. “I don't want you touching me.”  
“Well tough,” Severus glared back at him. Somehow Ron had an inkling that it wasn't the first time he might have had such an argument with the man, but he chased it away.  
“I have brought legal proof that we were married,” Severus reached into the bag. “Our bonding certificate, the original. I had to apply to the ministry for it. It must be returned this afternoon.”  
  
The scroll was placed carefully on Ron's lap, and he looked at it like it might explode before he tentatively reached out his fingers for it. Unfurling the delicate parchment, the official lettering of the ministry came into view, and he read it. His heart sank. The words were correct; his full name sat with Snape's, the signature of the officiator was real enough, as was the wax seal beneath that scribble. His throat was suddenly dry as he was forced to embrace the truth -he had been married to Severus Snape, and his family, who he had been convinced were playing an elaborate joke on him, were telling the truth.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispered, dropping the parchment and staring wildly at the wall. “Fuck.”  
“I have your ring,” Severus informed him. “I won't give it back.”  
“No, keep it,” Ron shook his head. “I don't want it.”  
  
An ugly silence descended upon them and Bill looked at him in disbelief.  
  
“But can't you see it's not a lie? I can tell you all about the wedding... you had it at The Burrow, mum was thrilled to organise it all for you because you didn't know jack about flowers and food and cake...”  
“Who wanted that?” Ron asked immediately.  
“You did,” Severus supplied. “I was happy to go to the Ministry single and walk out a married man, but you wanted a big wedding, in front of your friends and family.”  
“And you did that for me?” Ron asked sceptically.  
“Yes, he did,” Bill answered for him. “And he did it willingly.”  
  
His mind was sluggish in processing the information. “But why? He's a bastard, and he hates our family so why would he willingly spend time with us?”  
“He doesn't hate us,” Bill groaned. “He's spent every Sunday afternoon with us, with you, for the past five years. After the initial hoohaa, anyway...” Bill even looked guilty as he spoke about it.  
  
“At my request?” Ron looked to Severus then.  
“Not completely,” Severus looked down at his hands. “Possibly at first, when I didn't feel welcome, and was mostly awkward... but now... for the past three years, I have visited under my own volition, with or without you. There were times when you had to work, and I went for the both of us...”  
“You went to my parents' house without me?” Ron wondered if he had gone pale -he certainly felt pale.  
  
Severus nodded but didn't speak again. Bill's sigh was shaky, and Ron was left frowning amidst the pillows of his hospital bed.  
  
“I have to go to work,” Bill said finally, getting to his feet. “Ron... Please... I know this must be hard for you, but try to think what you're saying.”  
  
Ron shrugged. “Whatever, Bill.”  
“Don't be such a whining shit,” Severus muttered, as if it were offhand, as if it were the way he would usually reprimand Ron for his mood.  
Bill was watching him closely, as if to gauge what his reaction might be to it.  
  
“How dare you?” Ron asked of Snape, who met his glare.  
“You asked me to be that way with you,” Severus said simply. “You said that my polite act scared you more than my temper and you would prefer it if I treated you as you remembered me. Which was, if I remember rightly, as a 'cold-hearted bastard'.”  
“And you were happy to do that?”  
“Well above all else I am still myself,” Severus answered dryly. “Just because I fell in love with you doesn't mean you changed the fabric of my being.”  
“And yet me apparently falling love with you changed the fabric of mine.”  
“No,” Severus shook his head. “You always had it in you to be loving, caring, but you were also a moody little sod with a temper on you. Any of your family would tell you that.”  
  
“Working as an Auror had jaded you a bit,” Bill offered, and Ron jumped, having forgotten that his brother was still in the room. “We were all worried about you when you started dating Severus... you were low, depressed, still dealing with things from the war, and suddenly there you were... going out with him. We didn't see how it could benefit you.”  
“So you tried to stop us?” Ron asked hopefully.  
“We made our concerns known,” Bill looked guiltily. “But you wouldn't have any of it. You were content to walk away from us if we couldn't accept you as a couple.”  
  
“I would never do that,” Ron whispered. “I'd never leave you for the sake of a fuck.”  
“It was more than that,” Severus' voice was strangled. “You loved me from the first week, or so you said. Personally I never believed you, but you were insistent. From the off you were sure you had found the person you were going to spend the rest of your life with. Naturally, your family were worried about you and such a rash decision.”  
  
“So... how long did it take us to get married?” Ron peered down at the parchment for a date.  
  
“A year,” Severus looked out of the window. “I made you wait.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I didn't want to rush into heartache,” he said simply. “I had... issues, accepting your affections. You were my ex-pupil, you were young, handsome, you could have had anybody you wanted with your fame and eyes. But you chose me. From your... assessments of my appearance since you've woken up, I think you'll understand my hesitance? My confusion as to why someone like you would be content to settle for somebody like myself?”  
  
“It was never settling,” Bill interjected. “You know this, Severus. Don't use this to let your self-destructive nature win out. We won't let you do that.”  
  
A look passed between the two men then, something unsaid that Ron immediately wanted to know about.  
  
“I have to go,” Bill repeated finally, and stepped forward, curling his arm around Ron's neck and kissing his forehead. “Please, Ron...”  
“What do you want me to say?” Ron asked desperately. “I love him?”  
“I just want you to believe us that it happened,” Bill begged. “Your... denial is what hurts the most at the moment.”  
  
With another fleeting look his brother was gone and Ron sagged backwards into the mattress, afraid to be left alone with the man he had apparently loved.  
  
“Your family care about you very much,” Severus said, leaning forward and picking up Ron's hand again.  
  
The skin touching his was cool and gentle. The fingers were somehow roughened but soft at the same time, and they were not unpleasant. But the gaze which accompanied them was painful, marred with such sorrow that even Ron had to feel awful for causing it.  
  
“I love you,” Severus murmured, and the onyx irises were shut away from view, so that he might keep Ron out of his pain.  
  
Somehow Ron knew that, even though they had this past, those were not words that Severus uttered often. He had no idea how he could tell that they were special, that they were reserved for such moments as that.  
  
“I always told you that those three words were used too much, often in vain,” Severus explained. “That they became meaningless if they were spoken too often.”  
“So you never did?” Ron enquired. “So then how did I know that you loved me, if you did love me?”  
“You were happy to take your assurance in other things, other phrases,” Severus continued. “You always blushed when I made you a cup of tea in the morning, and brought it to you in bed. You kissed me when I stroked your hair in passing, you said that the touch made you feel like a loved cat or dog and that whilst it should have degraded you, you adored it. You were very open with your emotions... and I was not. And yet you loved me anyway.”  
  
Ron thought on that. Those words, at least, seemed easy to believe. When he loved he loved fiercely and openly, so he was not surprised that he was different to Severus, who seemed reserved and private.  
  
“But Bill said,” he went on. “Bill said I was very private about my life with you?”  
“On my request,” Severus looked at him. “I had no desire to have the ins and outs of our relationship spread across your family and wide network of friends. We were together, they saw us in public, but everything else we experienced and dealt with together. We never rowed in front of any of them, they never saw us anything but content. You must understand that this is part of the reason why it is so hard for them to see you this way...”  
  
Ron gave a nod and swallowed on his dry throat, wanting a drink. Severus seemed to read his mind and reached for the cup on the bedside table, arranging the straw and popping it in between Ron's lips.  
  
“I am well versed in looking after you,” Severus explained. “You are always injured in the line of duty for your occupation. I hate it, but I look after you when you're injured. I can tell from your facial expressions what you need, more often than not.”  
  
Ron was stunned that Severus seemed to know him so very well, even to the point of knowing when he had had enough of the lukewarm water, and pulling it away to sit back on the side. Then the cool fingers came up to wipe softly at his mouth, carrying away the excess. They lingered there, maybe hoping for a kiss, but even though he was grateful for the man's help, Ron could not press one to them.  
  
With a sigh Severus eventually pulled his arm away and dropped his hand onto the mattress.  
  
“I have something else,” he reached into the bag at his feet. “I don't know if anybody has told you that we...”  
  
Another official looking document was placed into Ron's lap as the marriage certificate was removed. His eyes pored over the text until his mouth fell open realising quite what he was looking at. The parchment was the deed to a house, a fairly sizable house if the description was correct. At the bottom he saw his own signature nestled next to Severus'.  
  
“We own a house?” he asked, aghast.  
“Together,” Severus confirmed. “We bought it jointly around a year after the wedding. We own it completely, and everything is paid off on it.”  
  
Why that news was so much more terrifying than the marriage, or the emotional depth of their apparent relationship, Ron had absolutely no idea. But looking down at the deeds to a house he did not remember made the tears swell in his eyes, made his heart clench and his guts churn.  
  
“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “This isn't right. I live in a flat in the middle of London and it's a dive. I don't own a house.”  
“You do,” Severus sighed. “With me. You decorated most of it yourself. You couldn't get the paint out of your hair for weeks.”  
“But I hate painting...” Ron looked up at him in alarm.  
“Not when it was your own house... I remember...” a light smile came over Severus' thin lips and his eyes softened. “You were so adamant you were going to do it all with magic, and if you couldn't do it with magic, you'd pay somebody to come in and decorate it for us... and then when we unlocked the front door, and you walked around... with these big wide puppy-dog eyes, you changed. You said that it was ours, that you wanted every effort within it to be ours too. You painted every single room by hand, the muggle way.”  
  
More tears were sliding hot and wet down his cheeks and Ron couldn't stop them. He was just as powerless to stop Severus when he moved onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Ron, stroking his hair and whispering into his ear.  
  
“Everything will be alright,” Severus assured him. “We'll fix this.”  
“I don't want it fixed,” Ron sent his torso rigid and tried to fight away from the man's loving hold. “I don't love you, I don't want you.”  
  
To his utmost credit, Severus did not pull away. Ron was infuriated to feel that his arms in fact tightened and pulled them closer together.  
  
“You're ill,” Severus said simply. “You do love me, I know you do. Bill's right. If I let my blasted self-destructive nature get in the way here...”  
“Why did I forget you then, hmm?” Ron could only think about getting the suffocating arms off him, the need to be alone undulating through his bloodstream like an addictive drug. “How come you're the only fucking thing I don't remember? Get off me, Snape, now, before I press the fucking panic alarm.”  
  
He looked pointedly at the alarm sensor on the wall next to his bed. Severus loosened his grip, his eyes dark.  
  
“I don't know why you've forgotten me,” the man was instantly defeated. “I thought you loved me.”  
“Guess not,” Ron shrugged.  
“I have to believe that you do,” Severus got to his feet, his hand halfway out to brush away Ron's tears, but Ron managed to dodge it despite the pain in his body. “You're hurting me.”  
  
Ron looked back with a nonchalant expression, though he honestly wasn't trying to cause pain. He just couldn't understand how he could ever have loved the ugly man by his bedside, how they could have had everything that his family and Severus had tried to detail that they'd had.  
  
“I think I’d best go,” Severus gathered the documents up and put them back in his bag.  
  
When he rose to standing Ron was alarmed to see tears coursing down the pale face, the lips twisted in a tight smirk so that they might not let any more words through. Crashing guilt swamped Ron then, and he wanted to reach out, wanted to touch Severus and tell him he was sorry for the pain he was causing him, but his muscles were limp and his tongue unwilling.  
  
“I will come back...” Severus said stiffly before walking to the door. “But I know you well enough to know that you need time alone now, Ron.”  
  
And then he was gone with a sharp snap of the door, and Ron's sigh of relief drowned out the pained gasp from the other side of the wood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron struggles to come to terms with what he has lost, and learns the secret Severus has been keeping from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst.

Ron blinked into the wind as he looked at the house. The sky was a perfect azure blue, cloudless, the sun was high in the sky and flooding the garden with bright light.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” he asked aloud, forgetting he had company.

 

Even though it was warm, the breeze was too much for him, and he shivered. He hated the fact that he was twenty-five and was reduced to a quivering wreck with a walking stick. Leaning on it then, he squinted at the house.

 

“No, not kidding,” Severus spoke, leaning back against the car with his arms folded over his chest. “You always told me that you wanted a house by the sea.”

“I did,” Ron confirmed, remembering that much. “My Nan and Grandad lived by the sea… I went there when I was a baby.”

 

The house was large with huge windows, a sizable front garden and what he guessed was a back garden, too. His eyes slid back to the car which Severus held the key to –apparently it was his, but Ron couldn’t remember it for the life of him. But then, seeing as it was a gift from Severus, he wasn’t surprised. It was right up his alley, too, old, quirky and very, very shiny.

 

“I’ve washed it every week,” Severus assured him. “Like you used to.”

“Every week?” Ron raised his eyebrows.

“I always told you that you were a twat,” Severus said unhelpfully. “Come on, we’d best get you inside, it’s too cold out here for you.”

 

The tenderness jolted his stomach and Ron wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the feeling of Severus’ care towards him. They had been forced to drive from The Burrow because apparition was too risky and Floo travel made him feel sick. The car journey had been awkward to the extreme, and only enhanced the conflicted feelings Ron had about making it in the first place.

 

His family had been pressuring him to go with Severus to see ‘their’ house for a week, and he had been home for a two. Remaining in St. Mungo’s for a month had sent him truly to rock bottom and when they had told him they could do no more, there was no treatment they could find other than what they were already giving him, he had been relieved. Anything would have been welcome compared to the dull walls of the hospital, and the annoying staff, and the way people treated him like an invalid.

 

Ron might have been, but he couldn’t accept it. The biggest blow had been being signed off from his job indefinitely.

 

Severus’ hand splayed on his back as they walked towards the house, and heat spread around the finger tips. Ron wanted to tell him to stop, to get his hands off him, but he recognised he needed help up the slightly uneven path.

 

“Ready?” Severus shot him a nervous look.

“I guess,” he looked away.

 

Severus unlocked the front door and pushed it open and Ron raised his gaze to look down the hallway. His overwhelming impression was of brightness; the carpet, the walls, they were all light shades which opened up the space. He stepped over the threshold and held his breath, wondering if anything would come to him. Everybody was waiting on that moment, waiting to see if there would be a second where everything clicked, and Ron would be himself again. All he noticed was the way two scents seemed to mingle –his own and Severus’, completely pervading the house.

 

Nothing else happened. Severus took it well, ushering him forward to close the door, though his sigh said it all when it came.

 

“Here, let me have your coat,” the voice was resolute and Ron awkwardly shrugged out of his jacket and handed it over. “Though to be honest, you normally just throw it over that.”

 

Severus pointed to a chair in the hallway and gave him a tight grin.

 

“Point of contention?” Ron asked.

“Always,” Severus nodded, and walked up the hallway. “Take your time.”

 

Ron nodded and released a sigh of relief as the darkly-clad back disappeared through a doorway. He made his way up the carpet, gripping onto his stick tightly. He peered into the living room, and his mouth fell slightly open. It was huge, with two large sofas, a frankly obscenely-sized Muggle television and an ornate fireplace. His eyes caught a wall of bookcase and he immediately ambled up to it, turning his head to look at the titles.

 

He caught sight of one which he recognised, which he had missed from the wonky shelf in his bedroom. The old dog-eared copy of ‘Flying With The Cannons’ was sandwiched between his even older copy of ‘Beedle The Bard’ and a new version of ‘Hogwarts: A History’.

 

“The left side of the case is yours,” Severus’ voice came from the doorway. “And the right is mine.”

 

Ron immediately looked to the left side and saw all the potions books, older books with delicate spines, books he would never have touched. No wonder he wanted to keep them separate from his own, Ron could tell that if he had damaged any of them the argument would have been enormous.

 

“So… what do you do, Severus?” he turned to look and wobbled slightly.

 

Severus sprang forward and steadied him, his hands strong on Ron’s upper arms, dark eyes looking into his for any sign of pain or distress. Again Ron felt his stomach flip, and he only just managed to keep the angry look off his face.

 

Several rather explosive exchanges with his family had told him that he could not be angry with Severus –it was not his fault. Ron had shouted at the top of his lungs that it wasn’t exactly his own fault, either, but he did concede their point. Whatever had happened, whatever he did not remember, he could not deny that it all existed. Severus was there, caring for him, showing him _their_ home.

 

“There is something you should probably know… I have asked your family not to mention him, and I have not as you have not. What was one more thing to upset you?”

 

Severus broke off then, looking up at the ceiling with intent eyes, seemingly recollecting his composure before he began again.

 

“What now?” Ron asked wearily, leaning against the back of the sofa. “What else is there, Severus? What else to add to the perfect life we apparently lived? A dog?”

 

Severus’ head snapped down then and looked at Ron incredulously, the hope splashed across his face. “What? Did you remember that? Do you remember him?” Excitement rose every word higher in tone, and Ron was flooded with guilt.

“No, Severus,” he looked at the carpet. “I was joking.”

 

“Fuck,” Severus swallowed, hard, and shook his head. He raised his hand and flapped his fingers.

 

A door opened somewhere, Ron heard the pounding of tiny feet, and then a dog barrelled through the living room door. He had no recollection of it, but it threw itself at him with a happy yelp. Ron immediately smiled at the scruffy animal, which looked to be nothing in particular, but a shaggy mess. A mix of browns in colour his eyes were dark and his nose almost button.

  
“Awh, cute!” Ron grinned, and somehow managed to catch the animal when it jumped again. It licked a messy line along his jaw and yelped again.

“You said that when you met him,” Severus was rubbing his lips with his fingers. “You were smitten. Love at first sight.”

“We rescued him?”

“Your dad… someone at work was ill and had to go into hospital, and needed a dog-sitter.”  
“And I didn’t give him back?” Ron looked up in alarm.

“The man passed away,” Severus reached out and stroked the fur of the dog. Ron watched in fascination as its face to the fingers and began to lick them. When the thin lips curled into a smile, Ron kept his shock inside.

 

“What’s his name?”

“Bramble, for reasons unknown, but he doesn’t answer to anything else…”

“Cute,” Ron grinned again, but had to put the dog on the floor because his back began to ache.

“You should sit down,” Severus gestured to the sofa.

“Show me the rest,” Ron shook his head.

 

“I suppose… the kitchen is where I should send you next,” Severus smiled. “You spent half your bloody life in the kitchen.”

“I like food,” Ron shrugged.

“Understatement,” the man half-laughed.

 

The kitchen was just as large as the living room, well-equipped with counters, utensils and seats.

 

“Sit,” Severus gestured to a stool. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

 

Ron sat obediently, glad of the rest, and leant his stick against the island counter. “It’s nice,” he commented, looking through the back window to the garden. “Wow.”

 

The view held the garden, lush and green, but beyond that came sand, and then the sea. His eyes drank it in wondering how he had ever managed to land so well. For the first time a pang hurt his chest for all of the things he had lost.

 

A noise jerked him out of his reverie, and that was the sound of Severus humming as he made tea. It took Ron by surprise, hearing a man that he remembered as sour and unfeeling hum, almost cheerily. Especially when, as his presence there that day proved, Severus had very little to be happy about.

 

“Here you are,” Severus set a mug down in front of him. “Just the way you like it –strong, two sugars, lots of milk.”

 

Ron stared at it. “How did you know that?”

“I’ve made that for you every morning for five years,” Severus reminded him gently.

“Every morning?” Ron asked disbelievingly, looking up with wide eyes.

“Every morning.”

 

They held each other’s gazes, until Ron had to look away. For something to do he curled his fingers around the mug and raised it to his lips, blew once, and took a sip. It was perfection, as he knew it would be. Everything about their house was perfection, everything in it was, everything Severus did for him was perfection.

 

Everything except him.

 

The tea jerked in his hand and landed in a scalding slop over his legs. “Fuck!” he hissed in pain, slamming it down on the counter and brushing frantically at the material.

“Stop,” Severus said quietly, and waved his wand over the wet area, vanishing the hot liquid and drying the loose cotton bottoms. “Did you burn yourself?”

 

Ron’s breath shortened without notice, his chest bounced with the effort of holding in his anger. Blinking rapidly to vanish the tears, he clenched his hands in a fist, though it hurt his arms.

 

“Just breathe,” Severus murmured to him, one hand reaching up to brush Ron’s fringe out of his eyes. “I… this must be hard for you.”

 

Ron looked up at him in surprise.

 

“I’m not a fool, Ron,” Severus lowered his eyes. “Your family are horrified by the fact you can’t remember me, remember what we shared. They’re tempering that with their relief you are alive. But the shock for you…” Severus kept the hair out of the way. “It must be so hard.”

 

“T-thank you,” Ron stammered. “I don’t know how to…”

“I can safely say that I would handle it worse,” Severus raised an eyebrow. “Think about me, my personality… if I woke up, and you tried to convince me you were in love with me?”

 

Ron licked his lips and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Stop saying thank you, this is my… this is what I do for you, Ron.”

“What do you mean?”

 

Severus sighed and stepped away, picking up his own tea mug. “You don’t want the answer to that.”

“Oh,” Ron chewed on his lip. “Aren’t you going to tell me anyway?”

“Not while we’re alone, I don’t think,” Severus tapped his index finger against the china. “It might upset you. And whilst you are not comfortable with me touching you…”

 

“Tell me,” Ron said instantly. “Tell me. They can’t wrap me in cotton wool all my life. And you, you never would. You never did from what I’ve seen and heard…”

“I don’t know why, but you have always found a great deal of comfort in me. Though you told me that I was a miserable bastard, and you often yelled at me that I was wrong, and you were right,” Ron couldn’t help a desperate little chuckle at that. “You found something in me, and you used it. Whenever you were upset, a bad day at work… when you were ill… this was just what we did.”

 

“And what did I give you?”

 

Severus blinked once and then walked to the kitchen door. “Love. That’s all you need to know, Ron. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

 

Ron picked up his mug and his walking stick and got to his feet, following Severus through the open archway at the end of the kitchen.

  
“Dining room,” Severus said pointlessly.

“Did we need a dining room?” Ron asked sceptically.

“Heh, I said that,” Severus smirked. “But you insisted. For all the times we could invite our friends round.”

 

The room was pristine. “How many times did we…”

“Once,” Severus said with a grin. “Once. And we used this room for half an hour, and then we went into the garden, because it was too warm.”

 

Ron looked around in wonder, until his eyes dipped to the rug, white with a pinkish stain.

  
“Uh, what?” he pointed to it, and Severus burst into dark laughter.

“You,” he shook his head. “You spilt your wine on it.”

“But I don’t drink wine!”

“You did,” Severus sighed. “After you met me, and I showed you what real wine was over the swill you’d been drinking before hand. I took you wine tasting in France.”

“So why didn’t you get the stain out?” Ron swept over it with his foot.

“Because I… you spilt it when I pinched your, ah… backside,” Severus cleared his throat and grinned at the stain. “And you left it to remind you of the ‘perils of my creeping hands’. That was at Christmas Dinner, two thousand and… two, I think. The first we spent alone, together.”

 

“And the others?” Ron enquired.

“With your family,” Severus smiled.

“What about yours?” Ron frowned.

 

A cloud passed over Severus’ face then. “I had nobody until I… until we…”

 

He didn’t need to finish, Ron nodded and looked away, humbled.

 

“You loved this house,” Severus sighed. “You bought half of fucking Ikea to furnish it. And I… oh God, I hate that place, Ron.”

“And you came with me?”

“For the sake of our bank account,” Severus snorted. “You would have bankrupted me buying the whole of it.”

“How did we… what did we…” Ron was unsure how to ask.

 

“Everything was split fifty fifty, though… we do still have separate bank accounts. We saved together and we saved separately.”

“Why?” Ron frowned. “I thought we…”

“Wizarding marriage contracts,” Severus explained. “They come with the clause that the people do that. A realistic clause, one might say.”

“People don’t live forever.”

“Love doesn’t last forever,” Severus added, and looked away.

 

Silently they left the dining room; Severus showed him the bathroom and the back patio, before guiding him up the stairs with careful hands. The dog bounded ahead of them, his tongue lolling out of his mouth with happiness.

 

“And this,” Severus pushed open a door. The air was stale when it met Ron’s face. “This is your office.”

 

Ron laughed. The room was an absolute state, with piles of parchment piled everywhere, books wildly stacked and notes tacked to the wall. “Is that a…”

“Computer, yes,” Severus confirmed. “I could have murdered Harry for introducing you to the delights of the internet and gaming.” He gestured to a shelf of boxes.

“I played Muggle games?”

“Until your eyes bled,” Severus groaned, but his lips were smiling. “But your access to the internet made for some rather interesting porn.”

 

Ron immediately flushed red and looked away.

  
“Sorry, that was inappropriate,” Severus murmured.

“You hadn’t opened this room whilst I was gone, had you?” Ron asked quietly.

“Couldn’t bear it,” the dark-haired man nodded in confirmation. “I closed the door, and wouldn’t even look at it as I walked past.”

 

“You really…” Ron breathed and didn’t finish his question.

 

His eyes fell on a photograph on his desk, and reached for it. The frame was plain but the photograph was enough.

 

“Our wedding day,” Severus explained. Ron knew he recognised the robes from somewhere. “You were… so happy.”  


Ron put the picture back down and turned to the man, “What’s next?”

“Just the bedroom left, really, and I don’t think that you should push yourself…”

“I’ll decide if I’m pushing myself,” Ron glared at him. “Me, not you.”

“Okay,” Severus back down immediately though his face was unimpressed.

 

He led Ron along the hallway to a door which stood ajar.

 

“Wait, don’t you have an office?” Ron frowned. “Where do you work? Where’s your space?”

“I have a lab downstairs,” Severus said quietly. “I can show you, if you’d like, but you never spent much time there in the past.”

“Why?” Ron asked, affronted. “Didn’t you want me there?”

“You didn’t want to be there,” Severus smirked. “You said you hated how dark it was, how you couldn’t see the sunlight. It sort of…”

 

He waved his hand into the bedroom and Ron looked. His jaw dropped.

  
“Fucking hell,” he breathed, and slouched into the room. “This is amazing.”

“You did it all,” Severus moved to stand by the bed, which was massive, and luxuriously made up.

“Which side of the bed was mine?” Ron didn’t know what made him ask.

“Which side of the bed do you think it was?”

 

The blasted hope was there again in Severus’ voice and Ron felt sick.

 

“The left,” he said uncertainly, looking at it.

“That’s right… how did you know that?”

“Left side of the bookcase, left side of the bed,” Ron breathed.

 

The room was full of light. There weren’t proper curtains, only light voiles which fell all the way to the floor in a waterfall of white. The windows were wide and opened onto a balcony. The view faced the sea.

 

“Why is it so… bright?” he asked.

“Me,” Severus said simply. “You did it for me. To entice me out of my dark dungeons, as you called them.”

 

A breeze blew through the glass doors which Ron hadn’t realised were open. The thin curtain rose in the gust of air and fluttered before falling back to the floor.

 

“Did it work?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Severus laughed. “You, however, did.”

 

Ron turned to look at him then and cringed into himself. “Me? I enticed you out of your dark dungeons?”

 

Severus, who had been so stoic and strong up until those words left Ron’s mouth, sunk down onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping as he clasped the edge of the mattress. His head hung so that he looked at his thighs, dark hair spilling over his shoulders.

  
“I’m sorry,” Ron breathed. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Severus… but everything I do is a fucking trap, everything I say…”

 

Desperation rose in his bloodstream and he panicked, looking for a source of fresh air. He made for the doors to the patio but caught his foot in the carpet and stumbled. When his body landed on the carpet the air thumped out of him. In lightening speed and a gentle touch, Severus knelt by his side, looking into his face worriedly.

  
“Alright?” he asked tentatively, reaching to brush Ron’s hair away again.

“Don’t!” Ron burst out. “Stop, please, _please_ stop touching my hair. Stop. Please.”

 

He was crying by that point but he only realised when the tears tickled as they dripped off his chin. Severus had immediately pulled back his hand; it hovered between them with shaking fingers.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ron whispered again. “But I want to go home, Severus.”

“This is your home,” onyx eyes were shut away behind lilac eyelids, thin lips were slightly parted.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ron repeated, wincing through the pain of his sprawled position on the floor. “But this… all these memories, and I can see they’re the truth, Severus. I see what we had. But I don’t feel for these memories, or the house, or even the fucking dog…. I don’t feel for you, and it feels like I should, and I just… _can’t._ Do you understand, Severus?”

 

He was sobbing with his words. Severus looked at him with horrified eyes, and they were full of tears too.

 

“You haven’t tried,” Severus breathed.

“What?” Ron screwed up his face in frustration and rolled onto his back on the floor, groaning as the pressure came off his hips.

“You haven’t tried to love me, you haven’t tried to believe we ever had anything good, you just see it. You won’t try.”

 

“I know,” Ron gasped. “I can’t, Severus, not yet. I don’t know if I’m ever going to… whatever it was that made me feel for you, that spark is gone, it’s just gone and I don’t know…”

“We’re researching,” Severus promised suddenly, as though he had found a light and grasped it with both hands. “The vampires used something on you that caused this, that much is clear. We will find it, Ron, and then we will unlock it all.”

 

Ron sniffed pathetically on the carpet and waited, throat burning.

 

“We’re researching. And I _will_ find a way to bring you back,” Severus hissed, and got to his feet. “Because I can’t lose you.”

“You already have,” Ron shook his head, staring wildly at the ceiling.

“Believe that if you will,” Severus’ voice was tight, and then Ron was left alone, sprawled on the floor with a sopping face.

 

It was a good twenty minutes before he realised that he was immobile, unable to help himself up off the carpet. That de-habilitating realisation brought a fresh wave of tears to his face again and then he heard tiny scuffs, then hot breath, and then a cold nose pressed onto his salty wet right cheek.

 

“Hey,” he sniffed, turning to look at the dog. “Shame you’re not bigger, mate…”

 

The dog whined, licked his face, and then, much to Ron’s dismay, the dog climbed onto his chest and stretched out on top of him, his nose pressing into Ron’s chin.

 

“That hurts,” he whispered, the pressure on his chest too much in his upset state. “Get off.”

 

The dog wouldn’t move and Ron reached up to stroke Bramble’s fur, and the warmth seeped through his top. It was a moment before he realised that he could feel the animal’s heartbeat through to his own.

 

“You love us both, huh?” Ron whispered to it, and the dog’s ears twitched. “Fuck.”

 

“Bramble, get off,” Severus voice rang out across the room, and then he was there, lifting the dog away, taking away the only peace Ron had found in a month and a half.

“He wasn’t causing any harm,” Ron frowned angrily.

 

Something in his heart melted as he saw the man lift the dog into his arms, press his face into the fur, and mutter, “He can’t smell of you.”

“What?” Ron looked up at them both.

“He can’t smell of you,” Severus said through gritted teeth. “I sleep with this dog in my bed because he reminds me of you, because you loved him. But he _cannot_ smell of you, Ron. No.”

 

“Okay,” Ron breathed immediately, realised he was dangerously close to unlocking whatever Severus was holding back from him, what he had sensed they were all holding back from him.

 

“I’m taking you home,” Severus placed the dog on the bed and ducked to lift Ron to standing. “Steady. Come on.”

 

Ron found his head swimming as he brushed harshly at his face.

  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

***

“So, how’d it go then?”

 

Ron was relieved that Charlie was the only person in The Burrow when he and Severus had pulled up outside of it. The man had left quickly, obviously battling his emotions.

 

“It was… weird,” Ron breathed, and dropped his forehead to rest on the kitchen table. “So fucking weird. I have a house. I have a husband. I have a fucking dog none of you told me about, who seems to fucking cherish me, and I don’t remember him.”

“We didn’t tell you because Severus was… oddly enough, you won’t believe this I’m sure, but he was worried about the dog. Whenever you were injured, Bramb was sort of your honour guard, and he wouldn’t leave your side. When you disappeared into the hospital, the bloody furry buggering bastard stopped eating. And Severus has only just got him back to normal.”

“Did everyone fucking love me or something?” Ron asked wildly, raising his face to stare at Charlie.

“Everyone,” he confirmed, and took a sip of tea.

  
“Why?” Ron breathed. “Why? I’m a fucking shithead most of the time.”  
“No you’re not, not unless you’re in a bad mood or you’ve been drinking rum.”

“Rum?” Ron frowned, “I’ve never drunk rum in my life.”

“Not until Harry and Ginny’s wedding… they had a Muggle bar, you tried it. You were so depressed by the end of the night…”

 

Ron flushed and looked out of the back window for something to do. “Everyone remembers this person, but he’s not me. I’m twenty again, I’ve not lived the things he has, Charlie… or at least the things which seem to have made me a…person.”

“You think your relationship with Severus made you a person?”

“It seems that way!” Ron cried. “I’ve done all these things I would never have normally done without him, things you all seem to love and think of with happy memories. I don’t know, Charlie… I just… don’t fucking know.”

  
“Alright, calm down,” Charlie moved around the table and dropped into a seat next to him. “Just stop, and don’t speak. Don’t say anything. Godric knows this is hard enough without words, Ron.”

 

“Can I?” Ron asked awkwardly, and then turned and fell into Charlie’s shoulder without the requested permission. His brother smelt of sweet spice and dragon hide polishing crème. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything you want,” Charlie rubbed his back soothingly.

“What is there about Severus that I don’t know?” Ron asked shrewdly, pulling back to take in Charlie’s facial expression.

“Shit,” the man hissed, and closed his eyes. “They’ve all said I’m not allowed to tell you, because they don’t think it’ll help… Severus himself was adamant.”

“Tell me,” Ron said automatically, glaring. “This is my life, my past, and I have a right to know.”

  
“Believe me,” Charlie said in a pacifying tone. “I’ve wanted to tell you, I don’t think that keeping anything from you, Ron, is the way to go. Who knows, this… it might even be the memory that unlocks you, if anything like that will.”

 

“Tell me,” Ron said simply again.

“I’d prefer to show you, but I can’t. Severus trusted Bill with the memories and Bill and Severus are… tighter than you’d think. Bill’s abiding by his wishes.”

“But… you don’t have to do that, right?” Ron asked hopefully, itching to find out the secret when he was so very close.

“No,” Charlie shook his head. “But if you tell anybody that it was me…”

“My lips are sealed.”

 

“Right,” Charlie shot him a look which told Ron that he would be held to that promise indefinitely. “When you and Severus first got together, he wasn’t well.”  
“He told me that,” Ron clarified. “When I knocked him over he was ill.”

“He was physically ill then, yes,” Charlie nodded, looking down at his mug. “But he was also suffering with mental issues, as well.”

“Weren’t we all?” Ron asked quietly.

“Most of us were, but Severus was…”

 

“Bad?” Ron frowned.

“Oh yeah,” Charlie whistled. “And he didn’t tell you, either, not until it was too late.”

“What do you mean, too late?”

“You were distraught,” Charlie rested his elbow on the table and propped his chin up. “You thought you’d failed him, but he was just ill, and had no help… you gave him all that you could and saved him. You were the one that found him when he’d poisoned himself.”

 

“W-What?” Ron gaped.

“Yeah,” Charlie nodded with a sad grimace. “About nine months after you’d got together. You’d been going through all the rubbish with us, trying to convince him that you felt for him… and he was battling that in secret. At your request he received help, and healed.”  
“And now I’ve gone and left him?” Ron asked in alarm.

  
Charlie looked at him, saying nothing but nodding his head.

 

“That’s what you’re all afraid of,” Ron realised, blinking rapidly. “You’re worried he’ll do it again. And you… you actually care.”

“Of course we care, he’s your husband,” Charlie shrugged. “And a good friend now. At first, things were different. But it was water under the bridge.”

 

“All anybody says is that it was different,” Ron said hotly. “Tell me the truth, Charlie, what happened?”

“We didn’t want you to be with him. We tried to break you up.”

“Why?” Ron asked in horror. “Why would you do that, if I was happy?”

“We didn’t… as you were so private, none of saw quite how happy you’d become with him. That was also how we… how we missed Severus’ illness, too.”

 

“And so what did you all do when I refused to give him up?”

“That was when we first realised that we wouldn’t win… I was already wavering before that.”  
“Couldn’t you just have trusted me?”

“We regret it now…”

 

“So what happened,” Ron cleared his throat. “To make you change your mind?”

“His suicide attempt,” Charlie licked his lips. “When we couldn’t prise you from his bedside, it became rather clear.”

“Got the shit out of your eyes,” Ron scathed.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Charlie reached up and scratched through his curls. “I know it’s awful, Ron but really… we’ve moved on.”

 

It was then that he realised that Charlie’s amber-brown eyes were narrowed intently.

  
“What?” he scowled.

“Look at you, defensive and disgusted with our actions…”

“Shut up,” Ron got up as quickly as he could. “I’m going to bed.”

“But Ron-”

“I’m going to bed!” He growled threateningly, and used his anger to propel him to the bottom of the stairs. “And don’t fucking disturb me, either.”

“Alright,” Charlie’s voice was sad. “Here if you want me.”

 

Ron didn’t reply to that, he carried on up the stairs, stopping for breathers along the way. He leant against the wall on the third landing and closed his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead with the exertion. He hated how ill he was. Opening his eyes brought him a hazy view, but when he focussed, he realised the photograph that he was opposite. The same photograph he had found on his desk in ‘his’ office. He and Severus waved back at him with a grin.

 

Ron reached forward, hooked the picture off the wall, and continued up the stairs, with it clasped tightly in his hand.

 

Nothing made sense, he decided as he walked through his bedroom door, and chucked his stick viciously in a corner. Yanking the curtains closed he jumped into his bed, ignoring the pain in his joints. Sinking beneath the duvet he realised that he still had the frame in hand and reached out to put it on his bedside table, standing it up so that it faced him.

 

It tormented him to see it. But he kept on looking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A possible solution is found, but it's not going to be quick. Ron is forced to make a decision, and his curiosity leads him into turmoil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, Language, memory sex.

“D’you want a cup of tea?” George asked him disinterestedly, as he stood by the kettle.

“Only if you’re making one,” Ron didn’t bother to drag his eyes from the back window where he had been aimlessly staring for the past half an hour. The sky was cloudy, but there was nothing remarkable to stare at.

 

As usual, he was bored.

 

The Weasley kitchen was oddly packed, with everybody at home, and Ron had guessed something was about to happen, he was only waiting for the knock on the door. His mother was shooting him nervous glances every five minutes, and Charlie was chewing his thumbnail to buggery, a sure sign that something was wrong.

 

Ron accepted his mug with half a smile, which George returned, his own pale face every bit as numb as Ron’s was. George had avoided him mostly, since his accident, not knowing what to say or offer in sympathy, and Ron couldn’t blame him. George had his own problems, even though the war was seven years past, and he was planning a wedding.

 

When a fist rapped on the glass of the kitchen door, Ron bit back his bitter laugh and picked up his mug again, taking a sip of tea. The only thing he could think of was that it was nowhere as good as the cups Severus made him.

 

And it was the dark-haired man who stepped through the door to a chorus of cheery hellos which _still_ set Ron on edge. The smiles of his family for Severus Snape were so odd, so genuine, that he had trouble believing that he wasn’t dreaming.

 

“Tea, Severus?” George asked again, as if that were his only purpose in the world.

“Of course he wants tea,” Molly sighed, and waved the man into a chair next to Ron.

 

“We have something to discuss with you,” she then said awkwardly, turning to him.

“So you lot really don’t tell me anything any more, do you?” Ron dropped his eyes to the amber liquid. “A little warning might have been nice before you called the whole court to order.”

 

He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his tone and the whole room hushed, unable to get used to hearing him speak that way.

 

“We only found out this morning,” Charlie said bracingly, hopping backwards to sit on one of the worktops. His legs swung in a faux-cheery nature and Ron wanted to scream at him to stop. “So there wasn’t much point in warning you, mate.”

“Whatever,” Ron muttered beneath his breath and looked away.

“Sorry, Severus, he’s in a bad mood today.”

 

The long thin fingers on the wooden table twitched, as though they longed to reach for Ron’s and squeeze them. He was glad his hands were otherwise occupied, but felt guilty for his cruel thought.

 

“The reason I wanted to talk to you,” Severus turned to him, keeping his voice and eyes lowered. “Is because I think that, between Hermione and I, we have found a potion which might be able to unlock your memories.”

 

Ron looked at him then, seeing the pale colouring of his skin, the shadows beneath his eyes. “Really?”

“It’s… complex. And old, very old. So old nobody has tried it, that we can find a record of, in at least three hundred years.”

“Why not?” Ron frowned.

“It was last used at the time the vampires were striving for power,” Severus tapped his fingers on the table, “When they used the same sorts of… cruelty on wizardfolk then.”

“So, you really think it’ll work?” Bill asked interestedly.

“There is… some of the ingredients used then have become defunct,” Severus said delicately. “We will have to replace by gut feeling, and if they don’t work… keep trying.”

“Why didn’t the hospital tell me about this?” Ron asked.

“Because they’re scared of drumming up old magic, they’d prefer dark times to be forgotten… and plus the literature has mostly been confiscated.”  
“So how did you find it?”

“Hermione… ah… may have misused her power at the Ministry,” Severus flushed slightly.

“Good old ‘Mione,” Harry snorted, from where he sat with Ginny tucked beneath his arm.

 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Ron asked dryly, leaning back in his seat and ignoring his aching back, and his surprise at finding Severus willing to work with Hermione, who he had seemingly loathed at Hogwarts.

“Well, it will take, not accounting for any errors with the replaced ingredients, three months to brew.”

“What?” Ron groaned.

“I know,” Severus sighed. “Impossibly drawn out, though I suppose that’s the way the vampires wanted it.”

 

He slumped in his seat, closing his eyes.

  
“There’s…” his mother’s voice was nervous. “Severus isn’t confident that we should place all of our hope in the potion…” she trailed off.

“So?” Ron shrugged.

“We think that maybe you should… go back to the house with Severus, to live with him whilst the potion brews.”

 

“What?!” Ron erupted, his heart accelerating to an unsafe speed. “Why?”

“Because we’ve come to wonder,” his father took up the thread. “Whether removing you from your normality, or what you knew as normal then, hasn’t helped your mind. If the potion doesn’t work then we have to look at other options…”

 

Ron glared at him. “And none of you thought discussing this with me might be a good idea?”  
“Ron, honestly, this morning was the first we knew of the potion and-”

“But you’ve all been talking behind my back for days,” he snapped. “If you think I haven’t noticed then you’re all fucking idiots.”

 

“Watch your language,” Molly snapped at him suddenly, her face a blaze of anger that he remembered from his childhood. “Please, your manners are atrocious, Ron.”

“He doesn’t have any,” Charlie teased lightly, trying to break through the tension in the room.

 

But Ron couldn’t let it go. He glared at each of them in turn and then finally looked to Severus, who was staring determinedly down at his thighs.

  
“And I bet you just love this plan, don’t you?” he hissed, narrowing his eyes. “Me living with you, you keeping your eye on me every single second of the day…”

“Ron, stop it,” Harry sighed. “I know this is hard for you but come on, we’re just trying to help you.”

“By packing me off to live with him?” Ron jerked his head at Severus. “When we can barely hold a conversation?”

“Which is by your own doing,” Bill said quietly, looking at the kitchen table.

“And so you’ve called me in here to just gang up on me, right?” Ron sighed, “You’re telling me I have no choice but to go along with your plan?”

“Don’t be a prat,” George finally spoke. “You’ve always got a choice, Ron. We’d never take that away from you.”

 

Ron stared at him, taking in the drawn set of his face. He wilted at the pain he saw there, and muttered, “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Just think about it?” Severus implored him. “I think your presence will help the brewing.”  
“Don’t be stupid, a person’s presence can’t change a potion,” Ron made a face, and glared back when Severus turned back on him.

“With all due respect, yes, it can,” the man said stiffly. “You reacted that way five years ago, before you… before you watched me brew.”

“Brew what?” Ron asked testily, having the feeling he knew what Severus was alluding to.

 

The suicide attempt that nobody other than Charlie had mentioned, that nobody other than Charlie knew that Ron knew about. He guessed Severus was talking about the healing anti-depressant potions they had made together after his release from hospital. It took a very great deal off effort for Ron to keep his mouth shut about it.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Severus shook his head, dark hair flopping around his face. “Just… it does make a difference, if you’re there.”  
“Can’t I just visit?” Ron asked desperately.  
“Are you really so averse to the thought of living with me?” he heard the usually impeccable control in Severus’ voice edge close to snapping, and in that he guessed just how much the man had riding on Ron moving back into their house. “Have I shown you anything other than kindness?”

 

Ron swallowed. “I need to go for a walk.”

 

His family began to protest, and Ron was glad that his strength had returned enough in the past two weeks that he could reach for his stick and get himself to his feet without anybody’s aide. Though still ill, he was able to move, and walk, and get fresh air, and he needed to get out of the claustrophobic kitchen before he made a decision. His chair scraped on the flagstones and his mother winced, and opened her mouth to chide him, but his dad laid a hand on her arm.

 

Heading out of the back door Ron ignored their hushed silence and walked out into the yard, wondering where he should head. He didn’t trust the lane, any Muggle cars that went past might not move for him, and he could not move out of their way fast enough at his slow pace. So instead he headed for the orchard, careful of his feet over the uneven terrain. The last thing he needed was to fall and have them swarm around him.

 

Weaving between the trees he focussed on his path, both begrudging the stick he held and being grateful to it with every step. If there was one thing he was sick of, it was being conflicted. He didn’t see how moving back ‘home’ with Severus would change that.

 

“It is _not_ your home,” he growled beneath his breath.

 

“Ron?” Severus’ voice called out from behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see the man striding with long legs over the grass. “Are you alright?”

 

Ron considered that a ridiculous question, so he didn’t answer, but turned and continued walking. He headed for the thick of the trees, hoping Severus might give up. But the man followed, as Ron knew deep down that he would.

 

“I want to spend time with you,” Severus said falteringly. “This isn’t a burden for me, Ron. In fact it would bring me a great deal of peace to have you in the house again…”  


Ron bitterly scoffed but kept walking, if he kept on going he knew he would hit Fred’s grave at the back.

 

“I really think you could feel happy in the house,” Severus hurried to walk alongside him. “It would be less busy than your parents’, and you would have some space…”

 

He couldn’t deny that the thought of that appealed to him. The Burrow seemed to be constantly filled with people even though none of the children, other than him, lived at home any more. His parents were everywhere and Ron felt like the world hadn’t stopped since he’d arrived from the hospital.

 

“But how?” he said finally. “How can you have me live with you when I… I don’t find you attractive?” Ron knew an ugly blush had popped up on his cheeks. “When you touch me, Severus… sometimes I have to hold onto my stomach.”

 

The words he had spoken were the cruel truth, and he wondered if they were enough to chase the man away. But, as he had guessed, they were not enough.

 

“No touching, then,” Severus replied, resolute in tone. “No nothing, if that is how you want it… You can move into the spare bedroom, have your own space, plus your office… We can meet at breakfast, and dinner… I’ll be at work during the day, except for the weekends when I have someone who runs the shop for me…”

“Why are you happy to do it though?” Ron finally stopped. “Why, Severus?”

“To bring you back,” the dark-haired man answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.

“So you’re content to spend three months creating a load of unhappy memories that _you_ won’t be able to forget, to bring back the ones _I_ have?” he raised his eyebrows sceptically.

 

Severus paused, his eyes full of emotion, as they always seemed to be. “You are worth it, Ron. Believe me. Everything you’ve seen of what we had… don’t you think it’s worth it?”

“I suppose I can’t say I wouldn’t feel the same way, if it was me,” Ron sighed eventually. “It seems so perfect.”

“It _was_ perfect.”

“Which is weird,” Ron made a face.  
“It wasn’t always perfect,” Severus’ voice lowered. “It took us a while to work out the creases, to… get to the level of happiness we had attained just before your accident.”

  
“Walk with me,” Ron didn’t want to stand still. Standing still made him feel trapped. “Severus… tell me, what it was like, just before my accident?”

“What in particular?” Severus folded his arms over his chest as they began to amble through the trees.

“Just… how we spent the time just before… what I did that morning, how I… said goodbye to you.”

 

Ron was trying to buy himself time, but he was also curious to hear what Severus would say. Even though it discomforted him, he found himself increasingly curious about their lives together.

 

“Well, you had the weekend off,” Severus was thinking, trying to remember. “And you knew you’d be gone for a while, so we spent it together, we had lunch on the Saturday, and spent the day shopping in Muggle London. You drove me mad dragging me round the shops in Oxford Street… and then on the Sunday we had lunch with your parents, went home and had… ah… well… the memory that Bill showed you, I’m sure you remember. And after an early night, you kissed me goodbye on the Monday morning, I went to work… and by that evening I had a message telling me you were in hospital.”

 

“Just like that,” Ron turned to him with a sad face which wasn’t a lie.

“Just like that,” Severus nodded, looking at the grass beneath their feet. “I was used to the hospital messages, but not… not what they told me when I got there.”

“Was I really shit Auror or something?” Ron asked. “I mean, from the way you tell it, I was always getting injured… I must have been shit.”

 

Severus laughed, and shook his head. “You were not a ‘shit’ Auror, Ron, you were a _brilliant_ Auror. You just had a dim-witted chivalric habit of throwing yourself in front of curses meant for other people. It ruined my blood pressure.”  
“And now I guess I’ve finally done it…”

“Yes, I am on medication as we speak,” Severus replied, and when Ron turned to look a smile was curving up his thin lips.

 

Ron couldn’t help his own smiling response and he laughed. “Sorry, Severus, for everything this puts you through…”

“Stop,” Severus said immediately. “I don’t need your apologies, Ron.”

 

“You do,” Ron breathed. “You so do.”

“Why?”

“What if, Severus… I mean… you’re all so hell bent on finding a cure… what if I don’t want to try?”

 

Severus didn’t reply as they began to walk again, though Ron noticed his fists clenching.

 

“It’s hard,” Ron said quietly. “You all want me back, and I think… if I can’t be the person you want me to be, I should just go, you know?”

“Am I really that detestable to you?” Severus’ voice was strained. “That you refuse to even try?”

 

Ron stabbed his walking stick at the ground and knew that the next three months of his life would revolve around his next words.

 

“And you’re happy for me to take up your time like this?” Ron asked, dropping his chin into his chest.

“Ron, you have never been a burden,” Severus stopped and reached out to him, putting a hand on his shoulder which Ron couldn’t shy away from.

“Even when I stopped you from dying?” the words slipped from his lips in a last ditch attempt to slow the conversation down. “I know about that.”

“Who told you?” Severus asked stiffly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Ron shook his head. “But thanks for keeping it from me… it seems like the sort of thing I should have known… to know about us…”

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to protect you. It hurt you then, I didn’t want to do it all over again.”

 

Ron couldn’t detect a hint of a lie in the man’s face so he was forced to take it as the truth, and he flushed at the protection that Severus had tried to give him.

 

“Thank you, I guess,” he murmured. “But you didn’t have to do that. If I saved you then, Severus… it shouldn’t have been too much of a leap to assume I’d want to know about it now. It helped actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“To know how we were so attached… I always think that certain actions create certain bonds, and saving someone’s life, no matter how they are dying, does that.”

“I feel the same way,” Severus offered. “Beyond, of course, the life-debt tosh which comes with our society.”

“It’s weird when you say things like that,” Ron closed his eyes and smiled. “I see how similar we are, and that feels weird.”

 

Severus gave him a tentatively tight smile, and said, “So what do you think, about moving in for a while?”

“It’s moving back, really, isn’t it?” Ron squinted up at the sky.

“Not for you,” Severus murmured.

 

“I’ll come,” Ron said finally.  
“And if the potion doesn’t work?”

 

Ron didn’t have an answer for him.

 

***

Ron had to confess that, a week later, he was relaxing living in the big house with only two other occupants, one of whom was canine. The rooms were peaceful, safe for him to wander, and Bramble was easy company. He hadn’t seen Severus much, who had been at work and pedantically tending to the memory potion at every other chance he got, but it didn’t seem particularly bad living with him, either.

 

So it was therefore a surprise when the man in question suddenly tumbled into the kitchen, his hair mad with sleep and wearing only half of his pyjamas. Ron froze with a spoonful of cornflakes halfway to his mouth as his eyes landed on the wiry top half of Severus’ body, which was slender and muscular at the same time. His belly was flat for his age, his skin sallow but in good condition. His nipples were pink and as he stood there, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, they hardened in front of Ron’s eyes.

 

It surprised him that, instead of finding the view repugnant, as he expected, Severus was pleasant to look at minus his robes. Seeing him mostly naked lessened the severity of his face and made his eyes kinder, if that were possible. Ron forced himself to chew on his cornflakes but couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 

“Morning,” Severus said, clearing his throat when he finished. “I’m sorry; I thought you would have finished by now.”

“I slept in late, didn’t go to bed until one,” Ron dropped his eyes to his bowl. “But this is your kitchen, Severus.”

“Did you manage all right?” Severus looked around for any sign of mishap and Ron took a deep breath, trying not to get angry at the man’s assumption that he could not look after himself.

“Fine,” Ron forced a smile and set down his spoon. “I don’t know what you usually do, but he was hungry… so I gave Bramb some of the food you usually give him at night?”

“Dog runs like bloody clockwork,” Severus shook his head, looking at the animal stretched out on the floor. “You used to joke that if there was some kind of emergency which left us without a clock, or time spells, we’d still know where we were because he’d never budge from his feeding schedule.”

 

Ron snorted, “Sounds like me, and him, from what I know.”

Severus yawned and put the kettle on to boil. “Tea?”

“Yes please,” Ron answered civilly.

 

They were both civil; it was the only way to describe how they had lived for the past week. Even though Ron could tell it near-on killed the man to have him there and not touch, and not kiss, or even really talk, Severus seemed happy to have him in the same place. He covertly watched as the Slytherin made himself tea and breakfast, neglecting to touch his own again in favour of simply watching.

 

He found himself fascinated by Severus’ back. There were subtle bumps which indicated his spine, and his shoulders were narrow with his hips. But as the figure moved, the play of the muscles and skin was something Ron didn’t want to tear his eyes away from. A question burgeoned on his tongue and he didn’t know whether to ask it or not. Severus had told him to ask anything he wanted to know. Clutching his spoon, he gathered his courage.

 

“Severus?”

“Yes?” dark hair flicked back over pale shoulders as Severus levitated his food to the tiny island table Ron was sitting at, and sent over Ron’s cup of tea. He perched opposite. The counter was not high enough to hide the way his belly remained flat as Severus sat straight-backed. Ron tore his eyes away so that he could speak.

“When we got together,” he moved the spoon through the now-soggy cornflakes. “You were ill, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Severus’ voice was short as he answered.

“So… did you look physically very different?” Ron tried his hardest not to go red.

“Thinner, paler, dark shadows beneath the eyes…” Severus shrugged. “Why? Oh, and the scarring was worse here…” thin fingers lifted to brush gently against his throat, where there was a patch of ruined skin.

“Okay,” Ron nodded.

“Why do you ask?” Severus dropped his eyes and stirred his tea, tightening his body as though he knew he would not like the answer.

 

“I just… I’m trying to put everything together in my head,” Ron gave up on the spoon. “I’m trying to find all the things which would have attracted me to you.”

“And see if they still do?” Severus’ upper lip curled to a sneer and he shook his head. “I would think it is obvious you are wasting your time?”

 

Ron leant back, the words hitting him like a slap to the face. Severus had been polite; Severus had chided him a few times, but only lightly. It was the first time the man had showed him that level of disdain. Nervously he swallowed and wondered how he should reply.

 

“I apologise,” Severus said immediately, getting to his feet. “Your old self well knew that I am not a morning person... I forgot.”

“Too many dark mornings in the dungeons?” Ron whispered. “No sunlight.”  
“Your obsession with sunlight hurt my eyes,” Severus confirmed, and picked up his food and mug and exited the kitchen, his bare feet silent as they padded across the tiles.

 

Ron watched him go, obsessed with his back again, and stared at the empty doorframe long after Severus had departed.

 

“Well that went well,” he muttered to Bramble, who rolled to look at him, one ear twitching nervously. “Guess I should have known he’d snap one day.”

 

Why it hurt, Ron wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe he just become spoiled by the good nature Severus had displayed to him, or he had become too used to believing the happy memories that everyone was content to show him. Nobody had showed him an argument, and Severus had provided no proof of their ordinary living, whether they squabbled on a regular basis. Maybe that was Severus’ usual way of conversing with him, and Ron had absolutely no idea.

 

Not knowing made him feel unprotected. Shivering in the warm kitchen, he picked up his spoon again, and knew exactly what he would be doing that day.

 

***

“I might be late tonight,” Severus informed him politely as Ron sat in the living room, playing with his new favourite toy –the Muggle box which gave him an awful lot of television channels.

“Oh, are you off now?” Ron tried to act like he was surprised, and he turned on the sofa to look at Severus, who loitered in the doorway.

“Yes, I need to get in early, I have some shipments arriving and the delivery times are erratic… they hold vital ingredients for your potion, so…”

 

Ron looked away guiltily, once more reminded of just how much work Severus was putting in to getting him back.

 

“Okay, well, have a good day,” he added a genuine smile to the end of his sentence, and hoped that it would be enough to make the man leave without any further mollycoddling.

 

It seemed that Severus stepped forward instinctively, and leant over the back of the sofa, resting his forearms on the cushions. Ron smelt his herb and tea scent and froze when he felt soft lips pressing into his hair.

 

“Oh.”

 

There was realisation in the one word and Ron could almost see how Severus’ face would look, when he saw that he had performed an action from the past, which was not one that Ron would appreciate in the present.

  
“Forgive me,” Severus unfolded and walked quickly from the room. There was only a second more before Ron heard the crack of apparition and deflated into the sofa cushions.

“There was nothing to forgive,” he said, burying his fingers into Bramble’s fur and stroking.

  
Though he had been shocked, there had been a familiarity to Severus’ action, the first kiss that he had ever bestowed upon Ron, the second time round, that he couldn’t feel upset about it. And even though it was just hair, which was dead, he could feel the kiss in place on the top of it. Reaching up he touched the spot, finding it dry and completely unaffected.

 

“Weird,” he made a face at the dog, who ignored him.

 

With a sigh he pushed himself to his feet and turned off the television, stretching his arms up as much as he could. As well as the memory modifications the vampires had performed on him, they had seemingly affected his muscular structure. He ached _all_ the time, nothing really helped, except for massage which he had to perform by himself, and the relief was never helpful for long.

 

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” he groaned pointlessly as he moved to the door, his eyes sweeping up and down the hallway to check that Severus had really left their glorious house. When he found it empty he headed for the door which as of yet he had not looked behind –the door to Severus’ basement potions lab.

 

Pushing it open the coolness rushed out to meet him, and he lit the way, peering down the steep stairs and knew that should he fall he would remain down until Severus came home that evening. But he was too curious to not try. Carefully he glided his hand down the banister as he descended the stairs.

 

When the room came into view he was surprised. He had expected a creepy hole like he could remember Severus owning when he was at Hogwarts, with dark corners and pickled creatures in jars. They had always turned Ron’s stomach and he found himself glad that they appeared to be absent in the man’s personal version.

 

He saw a work bench set up with a bubbling cauldron, protected by a magical preservation shield and with a constant fire lit beneath it. His stomach flipped, seeing the potion which might restore him to his mental capacity for the first time. It looked harmless, slightly pink in colour at that point in time as sloppy bubbles filtered up from the bottom of the metal bowl. His throat was dry, he swallowed on it and realised his hands were shaking.

 

Immediately he looked away, to try and find what he was actually looking for. He had not come down into Severus’ private space to scare himself, simply to try and find out more about the man he had loved. Severus would have told him anything he asked, but Ron wanted to experience it for himself. Severus would be blinded by his own perceptions, and Ron needed the truth.

 

The floor around the benches and store cupboards was tiled, but in a corner there were more bookcases, and a desk, all of which was in a neat and orderly fashion, and that part of the floor was carpeted. Ron had to smile as he saw the tidiness of Severus’ space, comparing it to his own two levels above, which was a sty.

 

A stack of parchment was on the left-hand side and he stepped closer, bending to look at them. The spider’s scrawl handwriting he remembered from his Potions homework was written hurriedly across the page, noting things that Ron didn’t understand. A formula was beneath it, a total, notes about ingredients and Latin names. He blinked.

 

There was really one thing he couldn’t understand, and the notes on the parchment only made it worse. Even at school he had recognised the skill of his sour Professor, of his intellect. That the man could even work out how to brew the old potion behind him, to figure out which ingredients to substitute for the defunct ones, told him that nothing had changed. Severus was clearly worthy of his title of ‘Master’ when it came to his subject area.

 

“But why the fuck would he want to be with someone as thick as I am?”

 

Ron’s voice echoed in the cool room and he turned his attention to the book cases. “I mean, come on, I’m nothing compared to all this…”

 

Skimming the titles his eyes glazed over with boredom, books which would never interest him in a million years passed him by and he couldn’t believe that Severus had wanted him, and that _he_ had married a man who clearly had very different interests to himself.

 

“It’s like all the reasons I broke it off with Hermione,” he frowned, not caring that he was talking to himself.

 

He turned, looking at the rest of the room. In the corner there was a large stone basin with a tap, and in the other free one there stood a table with a bowl on it. Ron thought it looked familiar, and as he stepped closer, he realised why.

 

The ornate bowl he had last seen sitting in Dumbledore’s office the morning after the final battle with You-Know-Who was perched in their basement, the surface shimmering. Severus’ memories were there in front of him, and Ron was immediately a thousand times more curious than he had been all morning. Stepping closer, though he didn’t feel as though he was in control of his own feet, he looked at the iridescent surface and bit his lip.

 

What had Severus thought to store away? Were they thoughts of his past, his Death Eater days and memories of the battle? Or were they, as Ron had a prickling suspicion in his skin, memories of himself and Severus, which the man had removed?

 

“And why would he take them out?” Ron frowned, cocking his head to try and peer through the surface to see if there was anything he could make out beneath the surface of the liquid.

 

Ron immediately reached out to touch the edges of the bowl, lowering his face, but his conscience suddenly stopped him. Severus had given him permission to use anything he wanted within the house, to touch anything he liked. However, the potions lab had not been mentioned once, and Ron had never asked about it. He had no idea if the free invitation included the room or not.

 

“He didn’t lock the door,” Ron said decisively, and, closing his eyes for the point of impact, plunged his face into the silvery liquid.

 

When he opened them again, he was taken by surprise. Sunshine drenched the landscape and he was standing on a beach with the sea in front of him, but it was not the beach that they lived next to. The warmth soothed his bones and he looked around for the memory he was supposed to be watching. His mouth fell open when he saw Severus sitting there, his eyes trained on the clear aqua sea. He was wearing cream loose bottoms and a thin shirt with the sleeves rolled back, the neck open nearly to his mid-chest. There was something about the way his hair was blowing in the breeze which made Ron’s heart thud harder.

 

 _“Stop showing off,”_ Severus shouted suddenly, a smile twisting his mouth, and Ron heard an answering shout.

 

Turning, his eyebrows rose in further surprise when he saw himself splashing out of the sea, wearing swimming trunks. He didn’t know what he was more shocked about, the fact that he was glowing with a tan or that he looked so _happy._ As the memory-version of himself came closer, Ron found he could see the individual droplets of water clinging to his healthily bronzed skin, and the way his hair was damp at the bottom, giving it an odd dip-dye effect.

 

The scars on his arms were made lighter for the tan but they didn’t look offensive, and when Ron glanced back at Severus, he saw nothing but attraction in the onyx eyes. What happened next made him swallow hard on his throat. Memory-Ron walked up to Severus, dropped to his knees, and threw his arms around him. They shared a kiss, tongues tangling with tiny moans escaping their mouths. The beach was deserted. Ron had the feeling that the privacy was the only reason he was awarded the kiss in public.

 

 _“Sure I can’t tempt you for a little fuck on the beach, Sev?”_ Memory-Ron asked suddenly.

 _“Absolutely not,”_ Severus smirked back. _“Don’t you think you’ve done enough today, enticing me out of black into…”_ an overdramatic shudder passed through Severus’ body, _“colour?”_

 

Memory-Ron threw his head back and laughed, hair gleaming in the sunlight. _“Very true, I’m proud of you, Severus… you haven’t even melted in the sunlight!”_

There was a growl and then Ron watched as Severus pounced at him, knocking him onto his back and ravishing his mouth again.

 

The memory suddenly swirled and he surprised himself by feeling disappointed, he would have liked to have remained for more.

 

When he landed again he was moving, sitting in the back seat of a car – _his_ car, and he was driving. The radio was loud and the wind was flapping through the body of the vehicle. He could see his hair blown back from his face as he sang along, and looked to Severus in the passenger seat.

 

 _“Slow down,”_ the man groused. _“And turn this down; you’re giving me a bloody headache with their screeching and yours.”_

Memory-Ron just laughed and started singing louder.

 

 _“Close the door, lay down upon the floor_  
And by candlelight, make love to me through the night…  
  
'Cause I have run awaaaay  
I have run away, yeah, yeah  
I have run away, run away  
I have run away with you…

_‘Cause I am falling in love (falling in love) with you_  
No never, I'm never gonna stop  
Falling in love with you   
With yoooooooooou.”

On the last line Ron saw himself reach over, balancing the wheel with one hand as he poked Severus in chest with the other.

 

 _“You are ridiculously sentimental, have I ever told you that?”_ Severus drawled, but his eyes were alight.

 _“All the time,”_ Memory-Ron reached out and turned down the radio. “ _In fact, I count it as a failed day if you don’t tell me at least once.”_

Their laughter filled the car then and Ron once more was left frustrated as the memory disintegrated and took him elsewhere. However, when he landed, he was forced to take a deep breath as the scene unfolded.

 

He was looked at himself completely naked, spread over a bed he didn’t recognise. From the plush surroundings, he guessed they were in a hotel.

_“Husband,”_ Memory-Ron suddenly snapped his fingers. _“Come here and fulfil your marital duty and service me, good man.”_

The response was a dark laugh, and Severus stepped into view. Ron choked as he saw him naked for the first time, seeing beyond what the man’s pyjamas had covered that morning as they ate breakfast together. His cock was large even in a dormant state, nestling in a thatch of inky curls. His thighs were thin and long, just like his feet. As he climbed onto the bed Ron received an eye-watering view of his backside, crack and hanging bollocks. Severus swept Memory-Ron up in his arms and kissed him, a smile making it hard to maintain.

 

 _“Would you like me to play the quivering virgin?”_ Memory-Ron asked suddenly, batting his eyelashes.

 _“We both know it’s far too late for that,”_ Severus arched a teasing eyebrow. “ _Whore.”_

 _“Oh man of compliments,”_ Memory-Ron play-glared, and they laughed again.

 

But when Severus’ hand reached out and glided up his stomach, both of the present Rons swallowed hard. And when the hand slid back down to wrap around his cock, Memory-Ron groaned and the imposter began to sweat as he watched. Severus wanked him, roughly, bringing him to full hardness.

 

“Oh my god,” Ron breathed, taking a step back as the dark head lowered, and he heard himself cry out in pleasure as his cock was licked from base to tip.

 

Ron had no idea whether he wanted to watch or whether he wanted to throw up. His head was swimming and he suddenly realised he had no idea how to remove himself from the pensieve and the memories it held.

 

“I want to get out,” he muttered desperately, closing his eyes.

 

Suddenly, the air was cool on his skin and he staggered, knocking into a wall. When he looked he was back in the tiny potions lab, and there was nobody there other than him. No image of himself bucking in pleasure, no Severus devouring his cock like it was food to a starving man. Taking a shaky breath he sniffed, not having realised he had begun to cry. Cursing his weakness he moved off the wall, wanting to escape the memories, and the room.

 

“Fuck!” he cried suddenly, when he felt something which scared him. He looked down and saw the bulge in his trousers, felt his cock swollen and pressing against his underwear. Viewing the memory had made him hard.

 

Never in his life had he been more terrified to find himself sexually aroused, not even when he first thought he might be gay. He couldn’t move, knowing that when he did he would feel it, and then it would be real. He wished he had never entered the potions lab, let alone looked in the pensieve.

 

Even though he had no right, he felt violated. This man had memories of him of a sexual nature which Ron didn’t want him to have, and didn’t have of his own accord. It scared him to be so out of control. He moved for the stairs, ignoring the rubbing of his prick in his clothes, and climbed the stairs as quickly as he could. Out of breath he turned off the lights and slammed the door, not stopping to take a breather. He could collapse when he reached his room.

 

Blood pumping he made it to the second landing, and he was gasping. Bypassing his office, and Severus’ bedroom, he barrelled into his own and slammed the door even though there was nobody to witness his distress.

 

A half-howl tore out of his lips as he realised that he didn’t know what he should do, how he should act at that moment.

 

Suddenly, as though his mind was laughing at him, a song popped into his mind and played; the song he had sung to in the car with Severus in the pensieve. He had only heard a portion of it there, but somehow he knew all the words, was able to move his lips to them as the melody played out in his mind. He looked to the bookcase into which Severus had moved some of the books and CDs that were apparently his favourites.

 

He knew what he was looking for, he plucked the case off the shelf and tore the CD out of the box, not knowing why he was compelled to do as he was as he set the disc in the player, closed the lid, and clicked play, skipping forward to the right track.

 

Sinking down on his bed, he wiped away his tears. The sight of them both naked together wouldn’t leave him alone, and confused him completely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House sharing is hard at the best of times, but with a man you once loved? Ron finds it's harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Angst, Language

Ron jabbed his wand at the fireplace again, his anger screaming through his veins that, once again, his magic was failing him. Over the past month, a steady decline was obvious, and he was beginning to get desperate. No flames burst from the end of the wand to take up residence in the grate which left him both cold and frustrated.

 

“Incendio,” he forced grit into his tone and tried to channel as much of his magical core as he possibly could.

 

Enough flame shot from his wand, but it was weak. He glared as it began to burn into full size in front of him, only growing once his part in the magic was over. An ashamed throb wracked his body and his throat grew thick.

 

On top of everything else, the apparent failing of his magic was threatening to be the final straw to break him. If his other injuries, and the memory loss, and having to live with a man he didn’t love and barely cared for weren’t problematic enough, losing the fabric of his being was sure to fuck him up just that little bit further.

 

And it was.

 

“Fucking bastards,” he breathed, closing his eyes and trying to reign in his emotions. Severus was only in the living room, and Ron would not lose control in front of him.

 

When his fingers had stopped trembling, and his knees were no longer jelly, Ron turned and made his way back to the island worktop in the middle of the large kitchen. He was bored, and in a fit of desperation on a grey Sunday afternoon, he was baking. He didn’t want to think about just how much like his mother that made him, but the outcome would be worth it.

 

Apparently he was a good cook. Ron didn’t remember becoming so, because he apparently learnt whilst he looked after Severus at the beginning of their relationship, when the man was ill. Determinedly he picked up a wooden spoon and began to drag it through the mixture, despite the fact that it made all the muscles in his arm ache. He could try to use his magic but the feeling when he failed would only ruin the cupcakes in the end.

 

All Ron could remember was living off takeaway food, beans on toast and quick meals at The Leaky Cauldron for lunch at work. Not the recipes he could apparently wrangle into submission or the cakes which were apparently his speciality. When he tried, he found it easy, and it wasn’t hard to believe that it had once been a talent of his old self’s.

 

What _was_ hard to believe, however, was the relationship between himself and Severus. They had lived together for a month, with Severus tending the potion with the utmost care and attention he could give it. The first week had been pleasant, but after that, beginning with Ron looking into Severus’ pensieve and seeing their intimate memories, they had been in a steady decline, just like his health. Nothing seemed to work between them. If one of them spoke and found something funny, the other barely raised an eyebrow of recognition. Severus was dry and sarcastic when he wasn’t being caring; his remarks cut Ron more than he thought they should, in a relationship.

                                   

The problem was that over the last two weeks especially, Severus had seemingly stopped caring. It was a shock, and Ron frowned into the cake batter as he mixed it steadily, ignoring his pained arm. There was nothing obvious, and Severus wasn’t being outwardly nasty to him, but it was as though the gentle caring love which had emanated from the dark figure since his awakening in the hospital had faded to grey.

 

It surprised Ron that he felt guilty. Severus had been so enthusiastic for him to move in, but it seemed to have done neither them individually or their relationship one bit of good. He chewed into his lip as he carried on mixing, looking at the creamy batter with determined eyes. Severus’ silence was the thing that was the hardest to take, he thought. The man had never been one for inane chatter, but they way they had been living was nearing mute. When they spoke, it was in short, formal sentences, and though polite, Ron wondered if it was the first inklings of anger that marred his former-husband’s mood.

Personally he felt he would have been angry earlier, if their positions were reversed. If it were him that was working hard for a solution, working hard to keep Severus in his home and take care of him, Ron knew his temper would have taken a long walk off a short pier very, very quickly. That was his way; he blew his fuse and picked up the pieces later. But Severus was suffering and Ron didn’t know what to do, or how to help. He couldn’t bring his memories back, nor could he truthfully deal with his accident any better than he was.

 

He was struggling too, and had never made the effort to hide it. Perhaps it was that which had finally broken Severus into misery.

 

The man in question suddenly ambled into the kitchen, a mug dangling loosely in his fingers. Onyx eyes fixed on Ron standing at the counter, and there was a tight smile before Severus moved to the kettle and put it on to boil.

 

Then, as had become his custom, Ron noticed, Severus crossed the kitchen and pulled open the back door. He leant against the frame and looked out at the sea.

 

Looking at his black-clad back, Ron should have felt sympathy, he assumed. Instead, all he felt was annoyance that his living partner was inconsiderate enough to leave the door open when the fire was lit, letting the heat escape.

  
“I’m cold,” Ron couldn’t help the shiver which rocked through him. “Shut the door.”

 

There wasn’t even a frustrated sigh, but Severus stepped backwards and closed the door quietly. Ron would have banged it, and glared, but Severus merely walked back to the kettle and stared at it as it began to bubble.

 

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” Ron tried to make conversation, but his voice was blunter than he hoped, and he cringed.

“Whatever you want to make,” Severus replied dully. “Not bothered.”

 

Ron wasn’t sure that Severus would actually eat if he weren’t there making the meals for them both, which he had taken on as his main task in the day, just to give himself something to do. Severus never offered any guidance, never asked for anything in particular, and so he just made a cycle based on his own likes. Whenever Ron asked, he got the same answer.

 

“Okay,” he said gently. “But you… isn’t there anything I used to make you that I could learn now? That you like?”

“Nothing that I could bear to eat,” Severus’ response was short as he made his tea. Ron noticed once more that he hadn’t been offered one.

“Can I have some tea, please?” he asked obstinately over his shoulder.  
“Of course.”

 

Severus remained only long enough to pour him his tea and add the sugar and milk, as perfectly as ever, and set it down on the end of the counter Ron worked at.

 

“Thanks,” Ron forced the word out between his teeth, and tried not to choke on the emotion which built inexplicably in his chest as his eyes set on the drink.

“You’re welcome,” it was stiff, and the eyes were dead. Ron couldn’t help the way he worriedly peered at the man.

“Severus… I…” he faltered, not knowing what words to say, or what would be well received. So he bottled it, feeling a failure, and said instead, “Can I invite Charlie over for dinner tonight? I haven’t seen him for a while with his work and I…”

“Invite who you like,” Severus said, turning for the door. “This is your house as well.”

  
“So why the fuck do you treat me like I’m not in it?” Ron breathed, as soon as he heard the door to the potions lab close.

 

***

“Godric’s arse,” Charlie mumbled through a mouthful of cupcake. “You’ve not lost your touch then.”

“Guess not,” Ron shrugged with a slight grin, shutting the oven door and chucking down the oven mitts he was holding.

“Why the invitation, Ron?” Charlie asked, sucking the frosting off his fingers noisily. “I feel quite privileged.”

“I just wanted to spend some time with you,” Ron shrugged, easing himself onto one of the stools and resting his elbows in front of him as he picked up his whiskey.

 

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be drinking, but nothing was helping his body. The medication he plugged himself with seemed pointless and the hospital was adamant that he should keep taking it. He was sick of being without a drink, and he knew it made no difference to his medication. He saw Charlie’s reproachful eyes and was glad when his brother had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

 

“So where’s Severus?” Charlie raised his eyebrows. “It’s so quiet in here these days.”

“What do you mean?” Ron looked into the depths of his drink.

“Well it’s just… there were only ever two of you, but you sort of… house was always filled with noise. A bit like Mum and Dad’s, if you get me?”

“How?”

“Music, or you were talking, or you had the television on…”

 

Ron found it hard to believe. Severus was so silent he was almost a ghost and when they did talk, they only seemed to rub each other up the wrong way.

 

“Ron?” Charlie reached for his hand but Ron lifted his glass to his lips to jerk it out of the way.

“Severus is downstairs,” Ron smiled.

“No he’s not,” the voice came from the doorway, and though he didn’t know why, Ron flushed at his mistake.

 

Severus stepped into the kitchen, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow. His hands were scrubbed red raw and Ron wondered what disgusting ingredient had been added to his saving grace during the session which had just ended. He had tried to pay attention to what was going into bringing him back, but it just made him feel nauseous.

 

“Hey, Severus,” Charlie’s words were too warm for the frosty kitchen, and Ron lowered his eyes.

“Good to see you, Charlie. Everything well with you?”

 

Ron sat and watched, becoming steadily more stunned with every sentence, as Severus fell into an easy and even cheery conversation with Charlie whilst he poured his own drink and sat down. With a guilty pang Ron realised that he hadn’t even thought to include Severus when he had supplied himself and Charlie with booze for the evening. It shouldn’t have been as hard to remember the man as it was.

 

“So what are we eating?” Charlie turned to Ron then, tapping his fingers in a happy rhythm on the worktop. “Smells good, whatever it is.”

“Just some sort of pastry-sausage-egg thing I found at the back of one of the books,” Ron shook his head. “It looked sort of untouched, so I figured I’d give it a go.”

“But Severus can’t eat that,” Charlie said immediately, and Ron’s head snapped up.

“What?”  


Charlie was staring back at him with a frown of disbelief. “He’s allergic to eggs.”

“No he isn’t,” Ron straightened his spine and ignored how it protested with an ache. “Because he hasn’t really complained about the fact I’ve used them for most things, or dropped dead…”

“Why did you use them?” Charlie was looking him at him almost accusatorially.

“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to,” Ron looked between them, realising that Severus had remained quiet.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said automatically.  
“I’ve used them in everything, fuck I even…” Ron looked up in horror. “I made you eggy bread for breakfast yesterday…”

 

He felt unbelievably stupid. It was a simple mistake, one that wasn’t his own –Severus hadn’t told him about any dietary issues and he’d just made what he fancied, but he felt ashamed of himself. That he didn’t _remember_.

 

“I need some…” he pushed his stool back and was forced to cling onto the worktop as it nearly sent him flying. He got to his feet and walked as quickly as he could from the kitchen, heading for nowhere in particular.

 

His breath was catching in his throat as his feet tripped over the carpets of the house, and he didn’t get far before he heard someone catching up with him. Defeated he dropped against the wall and hung his head.

 

“Hey,” Charlie murmured to him, putting one hand on his shoulder. “That wasn’t your fault.”  
“I know,” Ron shrugged. “He should have told me.”

“So why did you leave?” Charlie ducked to meet Ron’s eyes. “You should have told him what you thought.”

“You want me to tell him he’s a knob?” Ron looked up hotly.

 

Charlie looked at him and his face fell, settling into an unhappy expression. “Ron, that’d be more fucking normal than the way you’re living at the minute.”

“What?”

“This is so… weird,” Charlie shook his head and stepped away, beginning to pace back and forth in the hallway. “You were always so… for lack of a better word, feisty. You were always… well, in your own home, and not many people ever saw it. But I did. You were all snappy and feisty and you’d fight and fight and then one of you would say something, you’d laugh, and Severus would laugh at you, and then you’d make up. As loudly as you fell out.”

 

Ron blushed then and shuddered. “How do you know that?”

“Because when I first moved home from Romania, Mum and Dad had a full house with George, Bill and Fleur were renovating the cottage, and Percy was getting married… I had nowhere to go, so I stayed with you two for a while. Your bedroom was mine.”  
“I wondered about why the mattress smelt of polishing crème,” Ron smiled to the carpet.

“Yeah… and I saw more of your relationship than probably anybody else, which was great. Because I really understood then.”

 

“Understood what?” Ron asked tentatively, not sure he wanted to know Charlie’s answer.

“How you clicked, and worked together. He’s twenty years older than you, and you’re very different personality wise. But after that, watching your relationship cycle, I didn’t have anything to worry about. And now it’s all gone.”

“I know it’s gone,” Ron dragged his foot morosely over the carpet. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“But what I don’t get,” Charlie folded his arms over his chest, “Is why you’re barely speaking now, and why you just assume things, and why Severus isn’t telling you things, and why you’ve just not… is it like this all the time?”  
“Its worse,” Ron groaned, tipping his head back onto the wall with a thud. “We snap at each other all day long in this weird silence-y way, and I can’t figure out how to change it.”

 

“It’s like he’s letting you walk all over him,” Charlie whispered.

“Are you accusing me of taking advantage?” the anger shot through Ron again and he wondered quite when he had stopped being able to control his base reactions.

“I don’t know,” Charlie chewed on his bottom lip. “Am I, Ron?”

“What are you t-trying to-”

“You probably don’t even know you’re doing it, if you are,” Charlie pressed his hand into Ron’s chest to force him to remain against the wall. “And anybody would. This bloke’s opened up his home to you, his life, food, your joint money resources and you have nothing to do…”  
“I’m not taking advantage of anyone!” Ron threw at him, half-yelling when he hadn’t meant to. “Charlie, you don’t know what this is like!”

“No, I don’t,” he said coolly, and put his hands on Ron’s shoulders. “None of us do, but none of us want to see you ruin your chance, Ron.”  
“What?”

 

“Don’t you think that if this goes on long enough, that Severus might not… might not feel the same way about you?”

“Then that’d be fine,” Ron shrugged. “I wouldn’t drink the potion and move out and get my own flat and then we could stop this fucking charade.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

 

They fell silent, staring at one another, and whilst Ron’s eyes contained a small amount of glare Charlie’s looked nothing other than sad.

 

“It’s hard to believe…” Ron dropped his gaze. “That we were happy. That I was happy living with him.”  
“But you’ve seen the memories.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them,” Ron shrugged wildly. “But I can’t find the link between them and the man in the fucking kitchen. Because at first he was just smothering me, and now he’s not talking to me at all! Where am I supposed to find my happiness?”

“What?” Charlie frowned.

“That’s what this is all about, right?” Ron laughed. “My supposed ‘happiness’ with him?”

“Yes, but it’s-”

“About him, too, I know,” Ron glowered. “But Charlie, it feels so fucking pointless. Moving in here was a mistake. We should have stayed apart because we’re just making each other miserable. For now.”  
“But when you get the memories back-”

“If,” Ron corrected, digging a finger into Charlie’s chest. “If. We don’t know if it’s even going to work, everyone is counting on it and if it doesn’t work, what’s left? Two unhappy people, who aren’t in love with each other –one’s just in love with an idea of the other, and what then? We split the assets and go our separate ways? I lose him the family he won himself when he married me? I can’t do that. But I can’t be unhappy either.”

 

Charlie took a step back, his eyes wide at Ron’s rant, and didn’t speak.

  
“And there’s something else,” Ron swallowed, determined to say his piece now that he had someone who was _actually_ listening. “So he gets me back if it works, brilliant. For him. But I won’t forget these three months, I’ll remember the way he doesn’t talk to me, the way he’s fucking deserted me when I…”

 

Ron broke off blushing at what he had been about to say.

 

“When you need him?” Charlie forced the words out into the open and Ron suddenly hated that his second eldest brother was known for his frank honesty. “You do need him, and he needs you.”

“I just don’t… I know there’s no chance of this working, Charlie, if the potion doesn’t. The hospital has already said that, if it works –they think it will- that if I was to have any other kind of memory modification again it could permanently fuck me up. So the memories we’re making now will never go away, because they can’t.”

 

Charlie didn’t have any more answers for him, and Ron knew that when his brother yanked him into a tight hug.

  
“Ow,” he breathed, ribs aching.

“Sorry,” Charlie released the pressure but still held him close. “This is bollocks, isn’t it?”

“Total bollocks,” Ron groaned, and stuffed his face in the juncture between Charlie’s shoulder and neck. “Char?”

“Mm?”  
“My magic’s fading…” Ron whispered the words aloud for the first time. “I’m having trouble doing even basic spells, like light and stuff.”

 

Charlie just held him. Ron understood, knowing that he wouldn’t have known what to say either.

 

***

After a sleepless night, Ron was going mad. He needed fresh air, to get out of the house, but he would have to wait until Severus had left for work. He neared the kitchen, stomach rumbling, but froze when he heard voices.

 

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Because,” Severus’ voice was low and depressed. “He had worked hard on dinner and I didn’t want to upset him by refusing.”  
“Since when do you care about upsetting him, with all due respect?” Bill’s voice was hushed. “You’ve never been afraid to tell him if he’s doing something wrong, and he always did that for you, too.”

 

Ron flushed again; it felt like he had spent so much of the last two days with his face burning that his skin would be raw before too long. He pressed himself against the wall for support and strained his ears for more.

 

“Charlie said that you just said nothing last night. What else are you letting him get away with?”

“Nothing,” Severus said forcedly. “I’ve got to get to work.”

“No you don’t,” Bill hissed. “Stop lying and talk to me. You always used to talk to me, Severus.”

“Well, things are different now.”  
“Shown best by the way you’ve just snapped at me,” Ron could almost see Bill’s arms folding across his chest and the way his auburn eyebrow would arch in disapproval. “How can you sit there and let it fall apart, Severus? Let him act like this?”

“Wouldn’t you, if it were Fleur? Wouldn't you do everything you could to keep her stable?”

 

Ron held his breath as Severus turned the tables on his brother.

 

“I can’t answer that properly. With the best will in the world, I love my wife and she’s stood by me through thick and thin,” Ron thought he would gesture to his mauled face then, “But there’s nothing which welds us together like you and Ron have. I’m sorry, Severus, but I’d have to fight, and I’d have to find a way to make our lives together in the interim bearable. I wouldn’t be able to live with anything else.”

 

“But don’t you understand that this is why I can’t stop him?” Severus replied. “His mind is confused, he’s injured and he’s trying to heal. He thinks I haven’t noticed that his magic is dwindling to nothing, but I have. If I offered, I’m sure he would tell me to sod off.”

“Sounds like Ron,” Bill sighed exasperatedly. “But Severus, you give him an inch…”

“If I fight back,” there was new steel in Severus’ voice. “He won’t take the potion.”

“Bollocks,” Bill dismissed immediately, and Ron felt a sudden surge of gratitude for Charlie, who had obviously not divulged _everything_ they had discussed the night before. “Ron wants to be better again, he wants to be happy.”

 

“If you believe it is as simple as that, then you are a fool,” Severus said simply. “And that is something I never had you down for, Bill.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Bill said resolutely. “This is stupid. If you can’t talk to each other, because of your own bloody pride, I’ll do it for you.”

 

Ron jumped as he heard the stool scrape on the kitchen tiles, and stared wildly around. He didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, and their discussion had upset him _again._ As quickly as he could he made for the front door, keeping his steps careful and precise. He loved that their house was so perfect that he could escape quietly, with no noise other than a breeze gusting up the hallway. Walking through the garden the erratic thumping of his heart came to his notice, and the wind was cold on his bare arms. He was only dressed in a t-shirt and jeans; luckily he’d thought to put his trainers on before he left his bedroom. The path which ran alongside the house and down to the beach was short and sandy, he missed his walking stick when the floor moved beneath his feet, but didn’t want to go back for it.

 

He didn’t want to go back to the house where his brother was waiting for him with a lecture, and where Severus would sit silently, looking with blank eyes. Burying his hands deep in his pockets he slouched onto the beach, keeping close to the dunes where he wouldn’t be immediately noticeable. The view was stunning, as it always was, and the clouds of the day before had cleared away, presumably knowing the world was returning to work that Monday morning as the sun shone. He sighed, knowing it was unlikely he would ever have _that_ Sunday evening feeling of dread ever again.

 

He didn’t find it hard to believe, out of everything, that working as an Auror had jaded him, or that his family had been worried about him at the start of his relationship with Severus. He could have only been in service for two years, and yet Ron could tell he didn’t actually like his job. But he also knew he had kept at it through the years he had been with Severus, and he didn’t know why that was, if he disliked it so much. As it stood, he thought that he would be content to give it up if he hated it that much, even though to lose it before even leaving the hospital had hurt him.

 

“Maybe it was the money,” he muttered beneath his breath, squinting at the sun as it glinted on the sea.

 

It wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume he had kept at the job for the excessive salary, adding to his and Severus’ reserves. From the house, from the wedding pictures, from the memories and pictures of all of the holidays they appeared to have taken together, they were well off. Better off than Ron could ever have dreamed of being when he was younger.

 

Ron didn’t want to ask himself the question his mind threw up next, but he also wondered if the security was what he wanted from Severus, if it was why they were together. Seeing the man’s true personality as they lived in their home, he was grasping at straws to find other reasons why he might have fallen in love with a man twenty years his senior. He hated that something as fickle as financial security might have been the reason, after all, that made him nothing better than what his mother would have called a gold digger. He was attracted to Severus, but did that really make it any better? He didn’t think so.

 

Finding a patch which wouldn’t be visible from the house, or even much of the beach, Ron eased himself down onto the floor, hating the feel of sand creeping into his trainers, so he kicked them off and yanked his socks off. It was probably too cold for him to be sitting barely dressed in his poor condition, but he didn’t care. Sliding his wand from his jeans pocket, he fingered the handle and looked at the tip, willing something, anything, to properly come out of the end of it without the gargantuan effort it had taken recently.

 

Concentrating, he murmured under his breath and watched a tiny stream of bubbles leak from his wand. Increasing the size, he watched them float around him and enjoyed the sensation of some of them popping on his skin.

 

“It’s like I’m fucking three again,” he groaned, vanishing all the bubbles with a swipe of the wand and chucking it viciously down on the sand next to him. “Useless piece of bollocks.”

 

What good was his magic, anyway, when he thought about it? It was unlikely he would ever be able to work again, especially if his physical condition continued to worsen, and in the house he was doing nearly everything the muggle way simply to make the time pass more quickly. The house which had seemed huge and full of options for him a month before had turned into just as much of a prison as the Burrow had been, and he was growing to detest it.

 

Which, surprisingly, hurt. It was his home, and he had loved it, built it, and his sweat had gone into making it their own. He couldn’t fault his furniture choices or the way they had put the house together, some styles which were obviously his own and others which could only have been through Severus’ doing.

 

For some reason, his mind slipped to the potion which was currently bubbling sluggishly away beneath their house, being brewed for the sole purpose of his salvation. Ron knew that a part of his resistance had melted that he could think of it as such, but if the potion worked, and he returned at least half to normal, then it had to be worth it.

 

That realisation, however, didn’t stop him from wanting to march down the stairs in his angriest moments and wanting to throw the whole lot over the floor. He had lain awake at night wondering what it would take to make Severus give up on his quest for his husband back, how much it would take to break him.

 

Whilst they sat in silence for their meals every day, Ron knew that the lack of conversation didn’t mean that Severus was truly giving up, and definitely not, as he had intoned to Charlie the evening before, deserting Ron in his time of need. The fact that the man was brewing away alongside his daily profession was testament enough to just how much Severus still cared.

 

But it seemed like nothing when their living arrangements had turned so sour, and Ron resented that he even had the glimmer to hold on to. He also resented that he was bothering to hold on to it. He had changed, and it was obvious. Harry and Hermione had barely visited in the past two weeks, and he didn’t blame them. When they had, he’d sat in uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to act around two people who so clearly wanted the friend they remembered, but not understanding that their friend didn’t know how to find that part of him again.

 

Had he really been this bitter before the attack? He hadn’t asked anybody that. He had only asked for memories of himself and Severus, trying to understand how they had come to feel for one another. Of course, he understood completely on Severus’ behalf –Ron had saved him from death, and the man fell in love with him.

 

But for him, personally? He still couldn’t see it. Had he been driven so into the ground by his work that he felt the need to seek solace anywhere he could find it? Had he been so unattractive to other males that Severus Snape was his only option?

 

It was an odd feeling knowing that, on first waking, Ron could remember those things. But all he could think of was his current bitterness, and the way it ate everything up, making everything a chore and nothing a pleasure.

 

He fell back on the sand, looking up at a sky as perfect as the one which had provided the backdrop for the first day that he had seen the house. He closed his eyes to it.

 

_Too fucking happy._

 

***

Ron stretched, his back crunching with every move, and he shivered. The bed beneath him didn’t feel right, it was too hard and rutted up in the small of his back, and there was something gritty about his lips when he contentedly smacked them in his grogginess.

 

Then he heard a seagull and his eyes shot open.

 

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, forcing himself upright and looking at the way the sun had made an arc across the sky. Reaching up he touched his face, brushing away the accumulated sand and winced as it grated over his sore skin.

 

Just how sunburnt he actually was he wouldn’t know until he made it to a mirror, but looking at the low sun, and feeling the chill in his bones, he suspected he was going to have to fight through a wave of anxious people before he would be left alone.

 

“Stupid,” he hissed, getting to his feet and grabbing his trainers and wand. He pocketed the latter and kicked through the sand with his trainers dangling from his fingers. The water had crept up the beach and he saw it lapping softly. The water was always so calm on their beach, so peaceful. It had to have been deliberate.

 

Making his way along the beach the house came into view, beautiful in the late afternoon sun, and the back windows glinted bright orange. The balcony was empty bar the two chairs that he knew sat there because they used to watch sunsets together.

 

“How absolutely fucking perfect,” he muttered bitterly, tearing his eyes away from the idyll to try and find something to mar the picture, to make him feel better about his own obvious imperfection.

 

As he turned the corner of the house, he saw that the car was still in the drive. He would probably never drive it again. At the moment it was unsafe for him to do so, because he wouldn’t be able to keep the pressure on the accelerator or change quickly enough to brake. He would just kill himself if he attempted to drive.

 

With a thick swallow he turned the handle of the front door, hoping that it was unlocked. He realised his wish was a double-edged sword as, when the door swung open, and the lights were on, he realised that Severus would never have left it open if he wasn’t in the house.

 

The man in question barrelled out of the living room just as he was closing the door, and Ron couldn’t move in time to dodge the iron-grip which settled around his shoulders.

 

“Where have you been?” Severus was glaring at him with narrowed eyes which held a horrible dose of terror.

“I went for a walk this morning and I…” Ron breathed, watching as Severus looked at him, probably seeing the sunburn on his cheeks. “Fell asleep. In the dunes.”

 

There was a single second where Severus just gaped at him, and then fury tore up the narrow face once more, contorting the pale skin into a sneer. Ron didn’t know how to react when a painful ache cut through him as Severus shook him roughly and shoved him back into the door that he had just closed.

 

“Do you have any idea what kind of fucking day I’ve had, waiting for you? What it was like to open the spare room door and find you gone and your bed cold?!” he hissed, stepping so close that their fronts touched. Ron’s heart sped up as his palms grew clammy. “Can’t you even try, in your stupid stubborn brain to _try_ and see how the things that you do distress me?!”

 

There was another shove which felt like it rattled every single one of Ron’s bones, and a betraying gasp broke out of his lips. His face was hot from the sunburn, but otherwise he knew he had paled in shock. The look Severus was giving him, the look he was boring beyond Ron’s skin to pierce his organs with, was the Severus Snape he remembered from Hogwarts.

 

Not the loving, caring man who had been his husband.

 

“You don’t love me,” Severus said wildly then, taking a step back, and much to Ron’s relief, his hands dropped to his sides and clenched into fists.

 

Ron opened his mouth when it became obvious that Severus was waiting for an answer, and when he could give none, the man scathed and stormed back into the living room. “This is… You have made your opinion of living with me perfectly clear, and your opinion of me personally as well.”

 

Ron’s legs worked, carrying him to the living room where he found Severus flying up and down in front of the fire, his hair tossing with every sharp snap of his body. Hovering in the doorway Ron leant on the frame, his heart thudding faster than he could formulate a response with his mouth.

 

“But for some foolish reason,” Severus spat, gesturing with his hand at Ron. “I still love you. I still fucking love a man who can’t even try to love me in return. I wonder how I became so weak.”

 

A filthy look told Ron that Severus thought he knew just who had made him weak.

 

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Ron breathed wildly, not knowing where the words were coming from. “Severus, If this was me, I couldn’t do what you’re doing…”

“Because you don’t believe that you could love me enough,” Severus told him coldly. “You don’t think that you would feel enough for this cold, ugly old man to care for him in his convalescence. Say it; I know you’re thinking it, Ron.”

 

Ron fell silent, not wanting to lie. He simply breathed.

 

“This isn’t my fault,” he pleaded.”

“Everything you promised me is gone,” Severus shook his head, his eyes hardening completely. “You promised me forever and because I had let myself become so… hooked, in the pleasure you gave to me, I believed you. For all the good it’s now done me.”

“It’s not my fault!” Ron protested again, anger beginning to permeate his blood stream.

“Sometimes?” Severus snarled at him. “I don’t know. I want to feel sympathetic, Ron, but I’m having a hard time when you look at me like I’m nothing. And when you can’t look past what you see as a barrier to the truth, what we had –it was the truth, and you seem utterly determined to prove it wrong.”

 

“I’m not!” Ron yelled across the living room, and he heard a whine from the sofa. His face snapped to see Bramble cowering near the arm. He lowered his voice for the sake of the animal if nobody else in the room. “I just don’t know how to act around you, especially when you don’t tell me the truth and you don’t talk to me.”

“You haven’t exactly proved the most amenable of people,” Severus folded his arms over his chest. “You are nothing like him, Ron, nothing like the man I loved, and I just can’t fathom where this has all gone so wrong. You would _never_ have looked at me like I was nothing, because, as the man that is housing you, feeding you, cleaning up after you and running to your every single whinge and whine and call,” Ron opened his mouth in fury –he was invalid, and some things he simply _couldn’t_ do by himself- “I am somebody. You could at least pull the respect out of your fucking backside and give me what I deserve!”

 

They reached a stalemate with a ringing silence; Ron wondered why on earth there was a smile tugging at his lips. And then he remembered.

 

“Would we have laughed now?” he looked up, dazedly. “Would I have found that funny, and would I have laughed, and then would you have laughed at me laughing? Would that be it for the argument, Severus?”

 

Still angry, but completely felled by the question, Severus gaped at him again. His mouth was hanging open, but then he closed it and nodded, “Yes, mostly.”

“Right,” Ron breathed, nodding as numbness spread through his body. He walked to the sofa, finally dropping his shoes and swearing beneath his breath as sand tumbled out onto the carpet. He sat down and perched on the edge.

 

Severus said nothing, but Ron could feel that the man’s gaze never left his sunburned body. The crooks of his elbows were beginning to sting at the heat of the house. Bramble jumped off the sofa and slunk away, throwing a filthy look over his shoulder at them both, and disappeared into the hallway.

  
“He doesn’t like shouting?” Ron asked quietly.

“Hates it. Always has.”

 

Severus’ voice was softer then, and Ron chanced to look up. The anger had melted away but his onyx eyes were just as tormented.

 

“Can I just…” he spoke, and then as if he regretted it, he shook his head and closed his eyes.

“What?” Ron asked.  
“Can I just hold you?” Severus kept his eyes closed, as though the words were too shameful to face with them open. “Just for a minute?”

“Is the lack of physical contact what makes it hardest for you?” Ron swallowed.

 

There was a singular defeated nod, and Severus turned away when Ron didn’t speak immediately.

 

He didn’t know he was going to manage it, what with his burning skin, and his tired body, and his more exhausted mind, but Ron suddenly saw that his guilt had been there because he knew that Bill had been right that morning, that Charlie had been right.

 

He had been taking advantage, not ostentatiously, but gently, and it was wearing away at the man who was caring for him so well. The way that Ron just did what he wanted; the way he had left the house that morning without thinking to warn Severus, only considering his own pain, was example enough. Rooting for more would make him feel the worst kind of torturer.

 

He lifted one hand and patted it loudly to the sofa next to him, looking up to meet Severus’ eyes when he turned round.

 

“Ron, I-”

“Come here,” Ron lifted his arms up, finding it was easy to keep his face neutral. Somewhere, a part of him wanted the hug. But it was dull; there was no life in his desire.

 

Severus eventually dropped next to him and in a second Ron found himself swept up in a tighter embrace than they had ever shared. Their moments of bodily contact flashed before their eyes and he realised that it was actually their first proper hug, beyond the time when Severus had helped him to get around and wash. Ron closed his eyes, wondering when the last time he had ever felt so selfish was.

 

_The forest, camping during the war with the locket. When you left._

 

His mind gave him a direct answer and he shivered.

 

“Being with you made me a better person,” he whispered, more to himself than to Severus. “I was… lesser, before we met.”

“You were yourself,” Severus murmured into his ear. “And you always were. Don’t think that you automatically changed because of me, and our… situation.”

“But would the Ron you loved have just left the house without telling you where he was going?”

“He frequently did,” Severus almost laughed. “Sometimes I joked that I should just fit him with a tracking charm and have done for my sanity.”

“So… that’s it…” Ron sighed. “We’re talking about him in the past tense. Me in the past tense. I’m really gone for you, aren’t I?”

 

Severus said nothing to that and Ron surprised himself by snuggling closer into the embrace in which he had been locked. It was comforting to sit there and inhale the tea and herb scent which wafted from Severus’ pale skin. His nose was poking into dark, soft hair and it was lovely to just _feel_ on his sand abraded skin.

 

When they shifted, it was only to lean back on the sofa, and Ron felt the weight of Severus’ chin come down on the top of his head. It was amazing, as the peace stole over him, to feel happy in arms that he didn’t love.

 

Or did he love them, and his mind was just complicating things? Ron didn’t know if the peace was love or just a brief respite from everything else he was feeling.

 

“I’m confused,” he moaned suddenly, and buried his face in Severus’ front. “So confused, Severus.”

 

Thin fingers came up to stroke at his hair, and Ron didn’t find them annoying, or gut churning, as he had when he had first awoken in the hospital. Severus seemed to have forgotten their deal not to touch when the fingers sank through his hair to caress his scalp.

 

Ron surprised them both by nuzzling up into the hand. His lips were next to Severus’ neck and he found that lifting his face was easier than he’d ever thought possible.

 

He pressed his lips into Severus’ neck, and kissed there, over the scarred flesh which marked the end of the man’s role in the war.

 

There was a sharp intake of breath from above, but Severus didn’t let him go. Ron froze, wondering if he’d done the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, it just seemed right and I wanted to…”

 

The hand in his hair suddenly smoothed down to the ends and gently grasped, and Ron let his head tilt back as Severus tugged. There was no pain, only slow, smooth movement, and when Severus’ face came into view, Ron blinked.

 

“May I?”

 

He would have been a fool to not have understood what he was being asked for. He _felt_ a fool for nodding his permission, and when Severus’ lips brushed against his, there was no going back. Something in the dark haired man burst and the kiss lost its tender start and plunged into plain desire. Ron wasn’t bothered. Severus worked at his lips and it was good, it sent streaks of pleasure curling down into his belly, maybe beyond –Ron was too emotionally exhausted to be able to tell if he was hard or not.

 

He only even realised he was kissing back when Severus moaned into his mouth.

 

It felt like forever since he had kissed somebody, since he had felt _that_ warmth pressed up against his body. He had lost five years worth of companionship, of warmth, of kisses, and he might never, ever get them back.

 

He was numbing again, upset building in his chest, but he let Severus keep up the kiss until they had to part to breathe. Ron didn’t pull away as their foreheads were rested together, and Severus’ quiet breath washed warmly over his burnt skin.

 

“Thank you,” the words were whispered. “Thank you, Ron.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Ron murmured, and, knowing it would mean everything to Severus, he puckered his lips and kissed him on the mouth, for the first time under his own volition.

 

He had no idea what it meant to himself, however. But concentrating on Severus, after his selfish moping, seemed the way to go. He had to help the man somehow. He owed him that much, and far more, but if the kiss was all he could give, then he would freely give it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life changes, and Ron adapts, and then time stops, far too quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Angst, Language, some almost smut, and a hefty, hefty dose of self-preservation.

“No, it’ll burn if you put that on now,” Ron said kindly, shifting the dish away from Severus’ hand.

“I’ve never been any good at this,” he huffed and stepped away.

“The Great Potions Master unable to cook… did I find that funny before?” Ron turned, a smile playing at his lips.

“You mocked me daily,” Severus rolled his eyes and leant back on the worktop. “I presume that you’ll be slipping back into that habit, as well?”

 

Ron snorted and turned back to the dinner they were making, and picked up his glass of wine for a sip. He coughed at the sharpness. “I’m never gonna get used to that, Severus, I need beer. Or cider.”

“Philistine.”

“Snob,” Ron glanced over his shoulder.

 

Severus was smiling as he looked out of the back window at the horizon, watching the sun set over the sea. Ron allowed himself to continue looking whilst nobody was watching, enjoying the affect of the orange glow from outside the house reflecting on Severus’ pale skin.

 

Life had changed abruptly _again_ in the past month. After they’d sat there together, huddled on the sofa long into the night, Ron stood up a different man to the one he had sat down. He found himself more willing to accommodate Severus, pushing back his selfish side. Living was certainly more comfortable that way, even if he couldn’t truly feel happy about the increased amount of touches, or the way that Severus seemed to have burnt his reservations about thinking about Ron sexually in the interim.

 

Sometimes, it really looked as though the onyx eyes were undressing him.

 

Ron couldn’t hold a grudge about it, though –he knew if their positions were reversed it would be difficult for him, too. They still occupied separate bedrooms, but Severus spent far less time in his potions lab, and Ron spent far less him hiding in his office, and the living room was common ground. Thinking back over the month’s worth of chess matches, nights where Severus showed him films which used to be his favourite and the afternoons where they’d walked the dog together, life had most definitely taken an upturn.

 

His family, after seeing that something had obviously happened between them, had started to give them more and more space, and they attended lunch on Sundays like they’d apparently always done, and nothing more. Ron had noticed his mother’s eyes lingering over Severus’ hand on his, or the way that Ron was focusing on giving Severus everything that he could, but she had said nothing, only smiled.

 

It was what they wanted. It was what Severus wanted. Until it was time to shovel the potion down his throat, Ron was happy to let them have what they wanted and convince himself that it was what _he_ wanted, too. It was a nice distraction from his aching body and dwindling magic, and he had another month to enjoy it. What happened after that, he didn’t think about. He _couldn’t_ think about it. Nausea crept into his stomach whenever he did, whenever he tried to make sense of his future. Never before he had he been quite as in tune with a phrase as he currently was, and the phrase was most definitely ‘living for the moment’.

 

“Stupid dog, do you not remember the three hour walk we took you on this afternoon?”

 

Ron had been lost in his thoughts as he cooked, and his head snapped up to see Bramble pawing pointedly at the back door and Severus staring at him disdainfully.

 

“I want more,” Ron muttered in a high-pitched voice beneath his breath. “Pretty please?”

“He doesn’t need you helping,” Severus glared at him pointedly. “You always were a formidable duo.”

“What d’you mean?” Ron crossed the kitchen to stand in front of him.

“You should sit,” Severus surveyed his face, and before Ron could protest, the thin man who looked incapable of a great physical strength had put his hands on his waist, and swung him up to sit on the counter.

“A little warning?” Ron shivered at the feel of the hands still firmly in place on his hips. “Or do you just like sweeping me off my feet?”

“The latter,” Severus nodded with a smirk. “You used to like it. Surprised anybody could lift you, mainly, especially me…”

 

Severus trailed off and they looked at one another as he slowly inched inward. Ron immediately spread his legs and waited. It was easy to do, and he didn’t mind. Severus was warm, he smelt like home, and he was always so gentle. Ron had no reason to complain.

 

Except for that he wouldn’t have accepted the advances if he could have truly said no.

 

There was an element of forcedness about his situation, but Ron knew if he stood up and said that he wanted to leave, then he would be able to. But he had never done that, he had never called the line and crossed it, separating them. Everything was completely confusing him, but he did know that without Severus’ due care to him he wouldn’t get far. Arms wrapped properly around his waist and they were chest-to-chest, Ron repositioned his head on Severus’ shoulder.

 

He could almost hear the man’s heartbeat smoothing into relaxation just from the embrace. That made him smile, and his nose nuzzled into Severus’ throat.

“How do you feel after this afternoon?”

 

“Bit tired,” Ron answered truthfully –it had only taken them three hours because of his slow pace, and both the dog and Severus had been frustrated by it, but not once did either of them leave his side. He lifted his head and presented his lips for a kiss, which Severus gave freely.

“What are your plans for the evening?” he murmured as they pulled away, and Ron shrugged his shoulders.

“Dunno really, nothing. I was thinking about maybe going to bed and finish reading my book… what, why are you looking at me like that?”  
“You’re reading?” Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really, you?”

“Why not me?!” Ron laughed.

“You hate reading,” Severus frowned, pulling him close again. “You used to say with every word it took you closer to being like Hermione, and therefore you should stop immediately. You were well known for ripping books out of my hand…”

“Well it’s dull having just the telly to watch,” Ron flushed. “And the computer hurts my head, so…”

“I’m not complaining,” Severus assured him with another kiss. “Just a little odd to see you do things that you never did before.”  
“Such as?” Ron swallowed. “Other than the reading?”

 

He had been slowly uncovering news about himself as he and Severus grew closer. He had even convinced the man to show him some memories of their arguments, so that he could see that dynamic of their relationship. Severus still didn’t know that Ron had viewed the first set of memories stored in the pensieve. He had never drummed up the gumption to admit that he had invaded Severus’ privacy so early on.

 

“You don’t sing in the shower,” Severus’ voice was even but Ron could tell there was sadness hovering behind it.

“Because I’m trying not to fall over,” Ron explained. “It’s slippy and… yeah.”

“Shame, the morning was always better for it,” Severus looked away uncomfortably. “And obviously you’re not on your computer as much, or out with your friends…”  
“What new things am I doing?” Ron changed the subject, seeing the downward spiral in Severus’ mind. “What’s new?”

“This is new,” Severus smirked, putting his hand on Ron’s belly which, considering his immobility, was a little pudgier than it had ever been before. “I like it; I’ve always told you were just skin and bones.”

“It bugs me,” Ron grumped. “Want it gone; want to walk like a normal person again.”

“You hate exercise, unless it’s Quidditch,” Severus rolled his eyes. “Hate it, Ron, let’s not pretend you were a fitness god.”  
“It hurts me to hear you say I wasn’t,” Ron sniffed dramatically. “Let me up, I need to check the oven.”

“And you’re overly anxious about burning things,” Severus laughed, stepping away and holding out an unnecessary hand to help Ron off the counter. “Before you just used to let it happen, and then make something else. Or con me into a takeaway.”  


“Now, _that_ sounds like me,” he breathed, bending down to pull open the oven door. “But I’m not overly anxious about burning things.”

“You are,” Severus poured them both more wine. He said nothing as he slopped a liberal dash of lemonade into Ron’s, though he was smirking. “I know that’s because it’s the only thing you have different in a day to do… you work hard and you don’t want to ruin it.”

 

“Yep,” Ron nodded. “My day is so boring all I think about doing is cooking for my husband. Fuck it.”

 

Sadness dumped over his head like a cresting wave and Ron closed his eyes. The heat from the oven washed out onto his legs but he felt it disappear, heard the metal door clang shut and then tight arms wrapped around him. They weren’t what he wanted, but he recognised that they were what he _needed_ –-support.

 

“You know very well that if you could do more, you would,” Severus murmured in his ear. “Don’t feel guilty for something that was not your fault.”  
“Actually,” Ron’s voice was muffled from where he had stuffed his face in Severus’ neck, again, “It _was_ my fault. If I’d not got hit by that fucking curse life would never have changed. Everyone would be happy, I’d be normal, you wouldn’t be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and there’d be nothing standing in between us and the future we obviously wanted for ourselves.”

 

It was all muffled by the shirt, but Ron said it anyway, because he needed to get it out.

 

“I am not on the verge of a nervous breakdown,” Severus hissed angrily. “Are you telling people that?”  
“No,” Ron pulled back, affronted. “And I wouldn’t. Would I have before?”  
“No,” Severus shook his head, his raven hair falling in curtains about his face. “Apologies. Clearly not everything has changed.”

 

Ron let his face soften and he groaned. “Did you think, when you married me, that life would get easier? That you were done with bollocks?”

“I wasn’t done with _your_ bollocks,” the words were whip-fast and leering, and Ron blinked, stunned; Severus cursed beneath his breath. “It’s hard, not to be as we were with you. That sort of quick comment, the banter… it was just part of our life and it’s hard to stop.”  
“I don’t mind…” Ron dropped his eyes and played with a button on the front of Severus’ shirt. “Just that you’re Snape… and you talking about me in that way… and sometimes looking at me in that way… it’s a bit odd. But not in a bad way, really. Just a shock?”

 

“Oh…”

“I’ve offended you,” Ron moaned, and turned away, but Severus grabbed him again and pulled him so they stood back-to-chest.

“You offending me is practically impossible,” Severus whispered in his ear, his arms locked tightly against Ron’s chest. “You’re just being honest, and as much as it hurts me to hear you say what you do, I would rather you said it than kept it from me. Understood?”

“Perfectly,” Ron relaxed against him.

 

One slim hand stroked through his t-shirt, dangerously close to his nipple, and Ron tensed, the sensation creeping through his skin to stiffen it. The other soon followed and the pleasure bled down into his belly and coiled there, before passing to his groin. His jeans were baggy but Ron didn’t think his arousal would go unnoticed for long, so he tried to force his way out of Severus’ arms. He was held still. Lips caressed the skin of his neck.

 

It was a shock to realise that he actually wanted them to, and that, for the first time, he was not afraid of the touches. They were bliss on his tired body, and he leant back, letting Severus shoulder all of his weight as the man’s hand swept over his chest.

 

“So good,” he groaned. “I can well believe I liked this.”

“Really?” the seductive purr rumbled into his ear and Severus’ hand slipped a little lower. “So… what about this?”

 

The fingers dug up beneath the hem of his t-shirt and glided over his belly, touching through the fuzz and settling over his navel.

 

“Yeah,” Ron’s voice caught in his throat.

 

A solitary finger dipped into his navel, and his cock began to press against the zip of his jeans. He moaned and rocked his hips forward.

 

“Interesting,” Severus’ voice was clearer. “And are you reacting because it’s me, or because it’s someone?”

“I don’t know,” Ron breathed irritably. “I don’t want you to stop, though…”  
“Well, I’m going to,” the hand was replaced on top of the cotton and Ron let out a frustrated huff.

“That wasn’t fair; you can’t half touch me up, get me hard and leave me high and dry!”

“I would not feel right going further,” Severus said simply. “Sorry.”

 

They fell to silence and Ron focused on the fading light beyond the house windows, and noticed how dark the kitchen had become. There was an intake of breath, next to his ear, but if Severus had been about to speak he failed to make the words materialise, and Ron looked back at him.

 

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Don’t worry.”

 

There was a squeeze about his waist and then Severus’ body warmth was gone. The man wandered over to the side and picked up his wine glass, knocking it back in three deep gulps.

“Did you always drink like that?” Ron asked, surprised.

“Only in times of severe stress,” Severus shrugged.

“And have I severely stressed you now?” Ron asked disbelievingly –he hadn’t done anything.

  
There was an impatient tut, Severus grabbed his hand and Ron gasped in shock as his palm was pressed into a rock hard bulge in the man’s trousers. One eyebrow rose testily and Severus offered nothing more in explanation.

 

“So why did you stop?” Ron kept his hand in place when Severus released his wrist. “Why didn’t you just do what you wanted?”  
“That would not be respectful to you,” he said simply. “Remove your hand, please.”  
“And if I don’t want to?” Ron challenged, daring as much as to squeeze.

 

“The dinner’s burning,” Severus said quietly.

“Liar,” Ron gripped harder.

“No, really,” Severus looked at where smoke was curling around the oven door.

  
“Fuck!” Ron groaned.

“I’ll get the Chinese menu,” Severus muttered.

 

***

The living room was quiet as Ron lay on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. He could hear the sea from here he reclined and there was nothing to ruin the image of perfection. Especially as, when Severus had grown tired, the man hadn’t gone up to bed; he had slumped sideways, worming his way up Ron’s side, and was currently snoring lightly with his head on Ron’s chest.

 

Ron had one hand buried into the dark hair, stroking with soothing caresses to try and keep Severus asleep. Even though it hurt slightly, he liked the heavy weight resting on his sternum, and the way the head rose and fell with his own breaths. Severus had flung one arm over his belly and clung on to him tightly, almost like a stuffed toy.

 

Smiling at the notion of Severus Snape cuddling a teddy bear, Ron shifted his head on the scatter cushion he rested on, and closed his own eyes.

 

***

“Nngh,” Ron jerked awake halfway up the stairs. “What?”  
“You fell asleep on the sofa,” Severus explained. “Won’t do your back any good.”

“Oh,” Ron blinked, and reached up to blearily rub at an eye.

“You look all of five years old when you do that,” Severus laughed. “Come on, bed.”  
“Severus…” Ron was half-asleep and wondered if he might regret what he was about to say come the morning. “I want to sleep in your room.”

“Why?” the frown was instant.

“Our room,” Ron corrected himself. “Together. With you. Nothing… sexy,” he wasn’t finding eloquent enough words in his tiredness. “But just sleeping. Side by side. Do you want that?”

 

Severus didn’t answer him, but carried him into the wrong bedroom, the big bedroom with the large window and access to the balcony, and set him on the bed without another word. Ron wormed out of his jeans and kicked them onto the floor before rolling beneath the duvet. He heard a huff of exasperation and saw Severus pick up his removed garment and fold it over the back of the chair.

 

“Was I messy?” he asked.

“You were the king of messy,” Severus threw him a dark look. “Another point of contention.”

 

Ron laughed and snuggled into the bed. “Oh, this is great. The one in the spare room smells of Charlie.” _And this one smells of you._

“You love Charlie,” Severus frowned, stripping off his shirt, not paying attention to Ron’s clinging eyes.

“Yeah but I don’t want to smell my brother when I’m having a wank, Severus.”

“Understood,” he nodded, folding up his trousers before heading to the bed.

“Do you fold everything?” Ron asked, bemusedly.

“Generally, yes.”

“Freak.”

“Sloth,” Severus got into the bed next to him.

 

Ron was trying not to pant. He had seen Severus naked in memories, but not in the flesh, bar one early morning bathroom incident, and his fingers suddenly itched to touch.

 

“Goodnight,” Severus said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “If you need me in the night…”  
“You’re closer now than before,” Ron smiled back.

 

The lights went out. Ron realised that he could see the stars through the window. A lump formed in his throat as Severus took his hand and laced their fingers together on the mattress.

 

***

Ron was shovelling cornflakes into his mouth by the time that Severus rose the next morning. He didn’t regret his decision to spend the night in his husband’s bed, not one tiny bit. He felt fantastic.

  
“How are you?” Severus asked groggily, his anti-morning reaction taking over his speech.

“I’m great,” Ron answered, too chirpily. “How are you?”

“Half-asleep,” Severus shook his head slightly, making their usual tea. “You got up early?”

 

The question was there, poised above Ron’s head –‘did you get up because you couldn’t bear sleeping next to me?’

 

“Because I felt really good,” Ron smiled. “I wanted a shower and then I took Bramble for a walk, by myself, and I’m not tired, Sev. I feel great!”

“Good,” Severus nodded, and Ron smirked, knowing he’d get a better reaction when the man had woken up.

“So are you at work today?” he asked conversationally.

“No,” Severus shook his head. “I have… some things I’d like to do here, and am paying my sales assistant to work some extra days.”

 

“Oh, so you’ll be here by yourself?” his face fell, feeling guilty even though his day out with Charlie had been planned for weeks. A shiver passed down his spine at how weak it made him feel to have his family plan to take him out on certain days. He loathed it. His independence was completely gone. “I’m sure you could come with us?”

“No, I’m fine,” Severus shook his head. “And I’d rather not see him cart you about on a broom you’re not well enough to be on.”

“I’m fine,” Ron narrowed his eyes in a playful glare. He got to his feet and carried his empty bowl to the sink, and began to wash up.

 

“That’s different,” Severus said. “You never washed up. You said you were the cook and not the bottlewasher.”

Ron laughed, “That’s my mum’s saying. Why do you think she had seven kids? So she’d never have to wash a plate again!”

“Well you were the same,” Severus nodded. “It’s a welcome change.”

 

Ron washed up his bowl and set it to dry, before towelling off his hands and moving to stand behind Severus. Without a moment’s hesitation he slipped his arms around the slender frame and squeezed tightly.

 

“Last night was really… best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages,” he whispered purposefully, trying to get his message across –that Severus was the reason he felt so well that morning.

“Mm,” Severus hummed his agreement and leant back on Ron’s body.

“What can I make you for breakfast?” Ron nuzzled against his ear.

“I’m fine, we ate a lot last night and I have never had your metabolism.”

 

Silence fell again and the kitchen was peaceful, until Severus spoke again.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” his words were carefully chosen. “About what we should do when the potion is ready, and if it works.”

“Well, if it works, then I’m back, aren’t I?” Ron frowned.

“Yes… and I was going to suggest that we go on holiday as we always planned to, before you were injured.”  
“Okay,” Ron agreed without contemplation. If the potion worked, then it worked, and there would be no reason that their life shouldn’t continue as it had been doing.

 

He unlocked his arms and slouched to grab an apple from the fruit bowl, waiting for Severus to speak again; it was obvious he wasn’t finished.

 

“How do you feel about the whole thing, Ron? It’s been a while since we broached the subject, and I just want…”

 

_To ruin our happy morning and brilliant weekend with questions you won’t like the answer to?_

 

Ron managed to keep the quip inside, but only just, and he forced himself to bite into his lower lip.

 

“Do you think it’ll work?” Severus cleared his throat and turned around to look at him. “I suppose that’s what I’m asking you, Ron... Do you _feel_ like it’ll work?”

Ron bit noisily into the apple to give himself time to think, but by the time he swallowed he was no closer to an answer than he had hoped he would be. “I find it hard to be hopeful about anything,” he murmured finally, and looked down at the kitchen floor tiles.

 

“You’re not hopeful about it working?” Severus breathed. “Even after all this… don’t you want it to work? After the past month of… kissing me, cuddling up to me and making me think that you were possibly on your way to already loving me?”

 

His face had gone pale and Ron sprang forward, his hands raised. “No, Severus,” he breathed. “I just meant that… with my body as it is, and with the complexity of the potion… it just seems like such a fucking miracle would happen if it worked. It’s not you, now, Severus, it’s really not. It’s just like they leeched away my optimism…”

 

He wasn’t being entirely truthful, but Severus looked far too hurt for the truth. Ron walked up to him and threw his arms around Severus’ neck, trapping him in place, and forced a deep kiss onto his mouth. Their eyes remained open, watching one another, and Ron suddenly felt ashamed.

  
“I have to confess something,” he said, chest tightening. “Last month… when things were horrible. I thought about ruining it.”

“Oh?” Severus didn’t sound surprised.

“I wanted to just chuck it away… all your hard work… and I’m sorry.”  
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Severus replied to him. “I anticipated that. I’ve got a ghost copy in the shop’s lab. I’ve been brewing it since things took a…”

“Since we stopped talking to one another…”

“I tried to put myself in your position,” Severus’ arms finally wrapped around Ron’s waist again, and they felt right there. “And therefore I tried to guess your emotions one step ahead. Anger, denial, depression… distraction.”  


Ron flushed Weasley red and looked down at his feet.

  
“Of course I know what you’re doing,” Severus said sadly. “And I shouldn’t give myself over to it, but you are my husband, and the man I love; I can’t help myself from bending to the temptation.”

“Nobody could,” Ron assured him, and leaned in for another kiss.

 

It was rougher than the first, Severus’ desperation manifesting there rather than in his words. Ron clutched him a little tighter, and then Severus responded, and they ran into a vicious circle until they were both panting, grabbing at each other’s backs and fighting for dominance.

 

“Fuck, sorry!” Charlie’s exclamation drove them apart, and Ron felt like he’d been gutted.

 

The desire which had been rising in his body was like nothing he could remember feeling before, especially not for Severus, and to have it ripped away was painful.

 

“Hey,” he panted, taking a step back from Severus.

“I can go,” Charlie gestured back at the fireplace. “If you want.”

“No!” Ron shook his head vigorously, the pained feeling fading away only to be placed with bubbling enthusiasm. “I’m looking forward to getting out for the day… cabin fever to the extreme I think.”

 

Charlie shot him an apologetic grin and Ron took a moment to ground himself, looking at Severus, whose face had suddenly fallen. Taking a step back towards him, Ron picked up the man’s hand, and brought it to his lips.

 

“Have a good day?” he implored, and meant it.

“I’m sure I will,” Severus gave him a warm smile.

“I’ll just go and get my stuff,” Ron looked at Charlie, who was purposefully looking out of the kitchen window.

“Take your time… we’re just going flying,” Charlie shrugged.

Ron exited the kitchen to collect his hated walking stick and his jacket from the hallway, and strained his ears to see if Severus and Charlie would talk in his absence. Not a word sounded from the kitchen, and he stuffed the coat under his arm and didn’t bother to lean on the stick as he moved back to the other room. Charlie was still by the window, and Severus was sitting, neither of them had moved.

 

“Like a bloody wake in here,” he groused, he heard Charlie’s laugh and smiled at Severus. “C’mon, then,” he called.

 

His brother came to him and raised his arms.

  
“Can’t you just connect your place to the bloody Floo?” Ron glared, feeling like an immense failure for having to partake in a side-along. He had never been the best at apparition, but to have to rely on somebody else was mortifying. Charlie had already wrapped his arms around him before Ron said, “No, sorry, wait.”

 

Charlie stepped back, a knowing smirk on his lips, and looked the other way as Ron walked back to Severus and threw his arms around his neck again. He placed a demure kiss on the thin lips and said, “Tonight, we’re going out for dinner. Me and you.”

 

Severus looked at him with emotive eyes, gave a single nod, and kissed him again. “Now get out, you’re loitering.”

 

Ron grinned and pulled away.

 

***

“So that was new,” Charlie said, after they’d apparated to his house.

“Shut up,” Ron warned, raising his eyebrows and squinting into the sun.

“Ron… look, what are you playing at with him now?”

“I’m not playing at anything,” he snapped in response. “Jesus, Charlie, a little faith wouldn’t go amiss here. Why do you insist I’m going to be taking advantage?”

“Well just tell me that you’re not only doing that with him because of the way it feels nice to be touched,” Ron flushed, “And tell me that it’s because you want _him_ to touch you.”

 

“I do like it when he does it,” Ron looked away. “And I guess I have for about a month.”

“Do you find him attractive?” Charlie asked curiously, inching closer to Ron as they walked through the small woodland surrounding his house.

“I do,” Ron admitted. “I didn’t… when he had his clothes on, but it’s…”

“You tell me a lot more these days than you ever did then. When I asked you why you found him attractive, at the beginning, you just said ‘because’ and told me to shut up.”  
“We were private,” Ron said defensively, even though he couldn’t remember being so, he’d just been told they were.

 

“And you were healthier together for it. Look, I just don’t want you to hurt him more than you have to, Ron, if this doesn’t work out...”

 

They fell into silence, the undergrowth snapping beneath their feet as they walked. The air was cool and slightly damp in amongst the trees and Ron felt a shiver running down his spine when he thought about the emptiness.

  
“Doesn’t it creep you out living in the middle of this?” he commented eventually, when he could have sworn that someone was lurking behind at least five separate trees.

“Nah, I love it,” Charlie shook his head enthusiastically. “Plus it’s ten minutes from the reserve boundary and I can be there soon as they need me.”  
“Why’d you come home, Charlie?” Ron searched his mind, trying to find a reason.

“You weren’t with Severus then,” Charlie frowned.

“I know… but with everything… things have sort of slipped away from before, too…rather than just him.”  
“I came home because there was a lot to pick up after the war,” Charlie looked up into the canopy of leaves above them. “And I didn’t think it was fair to leave you all alone when we’d just lost Fred… I’d left you alone to fight a war, and that was bad enough.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Ron said simply, and offered nothing else.

 

***

“How do you feel?” Charlie asked in Ron’s ear, turning the broom so that the wind couldn’t buffet them off course.

“Like a complete fucking loser,” Ron sighed, slumping in Charlie’s strong arms. “I want to fly on my own.”  
“I’m not letting you fly on your own, because Severus would castrate me,” Charlie snorted. “And I happen to be rather attached to my balls, if you don’t mind.”

“How would he know?” Ron said loudly. “It’s not like he’s here.”  
“But if you fell off and broke your neck, then he’d know.”

“But you were one of the best seekers Gryffindor ever saw, if you can feint in a second you can save me from falling to my tragic death.”

“Tragic?” Charlie began to fly them back to the ground. “Think a lot of ourselves, don’t we?”

“Shut up,” Ron laughed, jabbing an elbow back into his brother’s gut. “Take me down.”

“Yes ma’am, and would you like to go shopping on the way or straight home?”  


“If I had the magic reserves right now I’d _hex_ your bollocks off,” Ron retorted childishly, seeing Charlie’s house come into view on the ground.

 

His brother had free reign to fly over the reserve and as such had the best flying practice out of all of his siblings, and Ron was glad of the ride. It belittled him to sit on a broom and be flown about, but the wind in his hair felt good. Cobwebs had been blown away from dusty corners he’d forgotten and he still felt good. He felt like he could have flown the broom himself, though Charlie would never let him.

 

Charlie pulled the broom up into a smooth landing, and Ron hopped off as soon as they were still.

 

“So, have I still got it?” Charlie raised an eyebrow, swinging a thick thigh over the broom handle.

“Surprisingly, what with this gut,” Ron poked him in it and darted away before Charlie could retaliate.

 

He wandered into the house and looked around at the simple furnishings, and the lack of clutter which Charlie seemed to clutter with him. It was very different to his house, which was tastefully furnished but had obviously become so with a healthy bank balance. Again it smacked him in the face how well he had been doing before his accident.

 

“What are you cooking me for lunch then?” Charlie grinned lopsidedly.

 

***

“Honestly, Mum,” Ron held his hands up. “I can go through the bloody Floo on my own. I’m not a child.”

 

Somehow they had ended up calling on his parents that afternoon; he had the suspicion that Charlie was trying to keep him out of the house for as long as he reasonably could. So they had been to see Fleur and their nieces and then carried on their rounds to the Burrow, where they’d been plugged with enough tea and cake to make Ron sleepy.

 

He wanted to go home and have a hot bath, to try and work out the ache which had developed in the small of his back, but as usual his mother was fussing.

 

“I don’t know if Severus’ll be there.”

“I don’t like the thought of you going home to an empty house,” she worried.

“It won’t be empty, because Bramb’ll be there and… look, I’m twenty-five, Mum. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you promise me?” She grabbed his cheek and pinched it; he winced but didn’t pull away. The worry was written in her expression and he knew that, no matter how annoying she was, she simply cared for him. It was a lot easier to bear now that he had moved out from beneath her roof.

 

A pang of gratitude shot through his stomach for Severus, for getting him away from his family. He estimated he would have been mad two months before had he not had the opportunity to leave and move in with his husband.

 

“Okay,” he said, “I’m going.”

“Bye sweetheart, be good to yourself,” she smiled on him, before turning back to the hob.

 

Ron didn’t comment on the way she wiped her eyes hurriedly on her apron. He scraped up a minimal amount of Floo powder, as he could remember doing when he was little and the money was tight. Throwing it into the flames they burned luminescent green and he stepped in, calling the kitchen Floo rather than the living room.

 

Severus had been right about the amount of time that they spent in the room, even when they weren’t cooking. There was something about it, much like the kitchen in his parental home, which screamed for it to be the social hub of the house.

 

It was dark, and he had to try twice to get the lights on with his wand, and it made his arm shake, but he was too happy to care. The day before it had taken him four attempts, and halving the number made him feel like a king.

 

“Severus? Are you in?” he called, noticing the way the fire died completely behind him; it had not been lit in the first place.

 

He poked his head into the hallway and found it dark, saw the door to the potions lab ajar like Severus always left it when he was not inside, and the house was simply cold. It was obvious it was empty.

 

“Bramble?” he shouted, straining his ears for the patter of tiny feet on the floor. They came quickly, and Ron caught the bundle of fluff in his arm. “Hey. Where’s Severus?”

 

Bramble whined at him. Ron froze.

  
“What?” he looked into the animal’s dark eyes, which were not unlike Severus’ own, and frowned. “Where’s Severus?”

 

Another whine came and Ron looked around, confused. Then he noticed something on the table –parchment, accompanied by a large glass bottle. The liquid inside it was pink. Ron was suddenly very hot. Slowly he set down the dog and made his way across the kitchen floor, slowing down with every step. He could see immediately that the handwriting was Severus’.

 

With trembling fingers he lifted the vial of potion out of the way and blinked at the letter.

 

_‘Ron,_

_I can do no more with the potion, the brewing has completed early for the newer ingredients. It simply declines a fraction in its potency if left. It would be best if you drank it as soon as you possibly could, I think._

 

_You are probably wondering where I am. I have to confess to taking the coward’s route. I am giving you the opportunity, Ron, to walk away from this, if you want. You have made it plain to me that should the potion not work, you know our relationship will not work. Take the potion. If it works, you will know where to find me –I’m in the house we bought, secretly, just before your accident, to holiday in. If the potion works, you will be able to come to me. And if it does not, or if you cannot make yourself drink this (I will be none the wiser, of course) then I will not stand in the way of your happiness. As much as I have enjoyed your touches this past month, when they are born of duty and a sense of distraction, they are just as unbearable as the coldness we had adopted._

_I love you today as I have always loved you, despite the awful two months we’ve suffered together. This morning you bounced away from me as a prisoner would a jailor when presented with freedom, and I will admit to you, I’m devastated. I can admit that because you’re you._

_If you can’t bear to take it, please don’t try to contact me. I can say with complete honesty that the weight of that message would be far too much to bear. I pray this is not goodbye._

_Yours entirely,_

_Severus.’_

Ron’s breath and heartbeat accelerated as one as he read the words, and he looked in horror at the pink liquid in the glass by his right hand. The potion he had wanted to smash, to never have to take, was sitting in front of him.

 

“It’s too soon,” he croaked, looking madly at it. “Another month, he said there’d be another month…”

 

His stomach twisted with guilt at the fact that he wasn’t clamouring to take it, that he hadn’t already ripped the cork out and let it trickle down his throat to bring back his happiness. The happiness that _everybody_ insisted he needed.

 

Ron had never admitted to Severus that he wasn’t entirely sure. He liked the touches, they were warm, they were tender –but they were from a man he barely knew. A man he had known once and that everybody expected him to know again.

 

“Oh god,” he sank down onto one of the stools, the one which Severus had sat upon that morning and looked at him from as he and Charlie had apparated. “Oh god oh god oh god.”

 

The vial was an ugly mar on the worktop in front of him. Thoughts swirled around his mind, one after the other, and none of them made much sense. What everybody else wanted didn’t seem to be in time with his own wants. They wanted him to be a person he wasn’t any more –not just mentally, but physically. He was no longer a strapping young man of twenty-five; he would see in twenty-six weaker than he had ever been in his life.

 

Every now and then a question would break through, asking him where the dilemma was, why on earth wasn’t he chugging the potion back and finding out at least if it would work?

 

“Because I’m scared about what happens if it fucking does!” he cried out desperately to the empty kitchen –even the dog had slunk away in his neediest moment. “Because I don’t think I was happy with him… how… how could I be happy with a man who’s just so much… better than me…?”

 

He shut up abruptly, realising he was soliloquising to the kitchen, and buried his face in his shaking fingers. The house seemed oppressive, the light walls bearing down on him like a smothering sheet of white cotton blocking off his air supply.

 

Out of time, and out of face for the fake courage he’d been projecting for the past month, Ron felt like he was about to combust. His brain began to throb and every single ache that had been gone that morning when he woke up, sprawled over Severus’ hot body, was back. It was as though his curse knew the time had come for a decision, and threw up the painful defence.

 

And Severus was gone. If he could work up the nerve to tip the potion down his gullet, and it didn’t work, he would never see him again. He had walked away and so obviously to his own detriment.

 

Shaking, Ron reached out for the vial and clenched it in his fist as hard as he possibly could without causing damage to the glass. Two months of his husband’s hard work had gone into the brewing, into _saving_ him, and Ron wasn’t man enough to drink it.

 

Disgusted with himself, he pushed back his stool and staggered to the back door. Ron’s eyes were filled with hot tears as he burst into the garden, gulping lungfuls of fresh air, though they did him no good at all. The potion vial remained curled in his fingers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron asks for help. It's all he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: More angst than you can shake a wet kipper at, language, more angst.

The beach was freezing. Ron could count at least five people who would have had hysterics seeing him out in that temperature in just a t-shirt and jeans. He was shivering, and he knew he should head back to the house, but at that moment the house represented everything he was afraid of. The potion bottle was still clamped in his fingers.

 

The liquid seemed threatening, which he considered to be ridiculous, but it didn’t stop from him looking shiftily at the pink potion and then looking quickly away again. His head was chaotic. One thought formed and was chased away by another. Whenever he thought he could focus, he ended up considering something else. There was nothing which would stick, nothing which he could cling to ground himself in the confusion.

 

What Ron really wanted to do was apparate away from the seaside house, to find somewhere neutral where he could think. With the beautiful brick structure looming behind him none of his negative thoughts seemed justifiable. It represented a life which was apparently happy, perfect. A life which he had made for himself.

 

But he couldn’t fly away from the beach due to his failing magic. As he considered his lack of ability his stomach squirmed. Even his old reliable chess pieces were failing to respond to him in the same way without the magical core thrumming through his body as he called out his moves. A pawn had ignored him completely three days before. The game had come to a very abrupt end.

 

Ron kicked angrily at the sand, sending it up in a spray of gold over his trainers and jeans. The beach was, as ever, completely empty. He looked up at the dark sky, and tried to penetrate the darker water, but there was nobody there other than himself. Ron wondered if that, one day, he woke up and actually saw another human being on the stretch of sand, whether he’d feel affronted. It was so private, it felt like it was his own –and that was an ego massaging thought.

 

But with the beach came the house, and with the house came Severus. His mind repeated the name over and over, until he had analysed every last letter and the make-up of the name. It sounded distorted in his mind, so strange, so odd after so many times of speaking it aloud in the last two months of his life.

 

Or the last five, depending on how he looked at it. His fingers smoothed against the glass in his hand. Should he count the years he’d been with Severus as part of his life, if he didn’t remember them? _Did_ they count? He groaned at the beach. Nothing was right. Had anything ever been right? Had he been truly happy, or just settling? Ron hated himself that he was convinced it was the latter. That something had made him feel low enough to settle for Severus Snape, and somehow along the way he had fallen in love with him.

 

And did he want to go back to settling? There were so many questions that he just wanted to stop. He just wanted the continual thought process to stop spinning and leave him alone, just for a second, so that he could breathe.

 

On top of it all, he felt foolish because it seemed as though he belonged nowhere. He considered the notion childish and over-emotional, but when he thought about it, he really didn’t think that there was a single place he would happily call home. His family and friends were there, as large and as full of life as ever –but they wanted their son and brother back. They wanted the things he would have done, the things he would have laughed at and the casual retorts he would have thrown at them, not what Ron in his newer, bitterer state could have offered them. Severus and the house behind him wanted their lover back. Severus wanted to be able to touch Ron freely, curl around him at night and hold him close before they had sex. Even the dog wanted someone who wouldn’t shout back.

 

“And I can’t even make the fucking dog happy.”

 

It made his failing magic even more gutting. If he could have, Ron knew by that point he probably would have been in a Portkey Station, running away. And he wasn’t ashamed that running away was essentially what he would have chosen to do.

As it was, he couldn’t run, metaphorically or even physically, considering the state of his body. He felt stretched between the different problems in his life, and something, somewhere, was beginning to crack in his core.

 

More than anything, what he understood as his own selfishness made him sick to his stomach. If it hadn’t been for that, Ron was fairly sure he would already have taken the potion. But it was the thought of the fact that, even if the potion worked and restored his memories, he wouldn’t be able to get rid of the past two months of his life which stopped him from drinking.

 

_And that makes you an arsehole. Nobody else wants to remember it either and yet they fucking will and they’re not bleating on about it._

Ron realised he had reached the end of the sand and automatically turned, walking over the footprints he had already left on his five previous treks back and forth. Looking at the return view his mind slipped to thinking about the way he reacted when Severus touched him. At first, he had shuddered, been offended and mostly been downright frustrated, but the past month had seen him tolerate and even welcome the contact. It was comforting and touched his soul. He couldn’t trust himself, however. Surely there was the possibility that his mind had subconsciously accepted his fate as a man with failing magic and swiftly following body? Looking to his prospects, Ron couldn’t find any. Severus was the only prospect, romantically and financially, that he could see in his future. Had his mind come to terms with that long before he had, and was that why, after that night on the sofa, he had been content to melt into a casual, sweet acquaintance with the husband he didn’t remember?

 

Ron wasn’t going to lie to himself concerning his physical condition. He saw himself as an invalid. He had only learned to walk without his stick because he had accepted the excruciatingly slow pace he had to suffer to manage without it. That, even though he had become ‘one of those people’ who used to send him into a blind rage dawdling along pavements at a snail’s pace, was better than using the infernal walking aide. He wanted to burn it. It resembled everything that was wrong, and the fact that one stick of wood had replaced another important one, but was completely devoid of magical ability, knifed him every time he looked at it.

 

“And I’m sure I wasn’t this fucking deep before the accident!” he yelled angrily at the beach, his voice echoing along the empty stretch and dying to nothing.

 

_Just like me, apparently._

Disgusted with himself, Ron growled. He assumed that in the five years he spent with Severus, he had grown up. That he had put aside his sulking, moping tendencies and just got on with whatever life handed him. Everybody had raised him onto such a perfect pedestal that Ron found his shortcomings a complete failure.

  
When it boiled down to it –that was what he felt; a failure. He couldn’t see how the potion in his hand was going to change anything.

 

Suddenly, over the sounds of the night-settled beach, Ron heard the unmistakable crack of apparition. He searched wildly with his eyes. Two different textures of red hair glowed in the gloom and his stomach lurched.

 

“Ron?” Charlie moved closer. Ron saw his eyes looking around at the beach, assessing the temperature and then looking back at him, seeing how woefully underdressed he was for being outside.

“What are you doing here?” his voice was numb, void of emotion. It felt detached.

“I… we, Severus contacted us shortly after you left. He asked for someone to come and check on you and we thought… well, we didn’t know what to think, if I’m honest. What’s going on mate?”

  
Ron swallowed and looked him in the eye. “Potion’s ready early. Severus is gone. He says if it works I’ll know where to find him. Something about a house we bought abroad. If it doesn’t, he doesn’t want me to find him and he doesn’t want to know if it was because I didn’t drink or because it genuinely failed.”

“Shit,” Charlie hissed. “I can send Bill after him, Bill can find anyone, he tracks better than a hound-”

“Don’t,” Ron shook his head, and stepped around Charlie and George to continue walking along the beach, following the solitary line of footprints he had already pressed into the soft ground.

 

It only took his brothers three seconds to fall into step with him. At first they just walked, maintaining the awkward silence and looking at the scenery. Ron knew what they were probably thinking –what a beautiful view it was, how _lovely_ it would be to wake up to it every single morning. They were also probably wondering what the hell he had to complain about.

 

Ron wasn’t sure he would have been able to find a justifiable answer to their ponderings, either.

 

_Even now he can’t leave me alone without protecting me._

“Ron?”

 

When his name came, it was not, as he’d expected, from Charlie. George didn’t look at him. He kept his eyes to the sand as they walked. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he breathed.

“Why can’t you just take it?” there was a tone of desperation in George’s voice which Ron couldn’t clearly remember hearing ever before; perhaps in the first days after the battle, when they were all so shocked, so grief-ridden.

“It’s not that easy,” Ron closed his eyes, walking a few steps with them shut. He knew the beach like the back of his hand, and there was nothing to fell him there.

“I’m sorry,” George grimaced. “But it seems so to me. You loved him. He still loves you. Why are you being so stubborn? Don’t throw it away because you’re scared of two months of shit memories tainting it all. Don’t lose him for that, because you can’t buck up enough.”

 

Ron felt like he’d been slapped in the face –none of his family had spoken to him as harshly as that about the whole debacle. He opened his eyes and looked at George.

  
“Don’t look at me all horrified and hurt,” the freckled face held barely contained contempt. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking… He’s a sarcastic old bag who always puts _everyone_ down, and I love winding him up –but he’s your husband. Always has great booze and gives thoughtful Christmas gifts. He surprised us all. And now you’re surprising me by failing him. Don’t.”

“George-” Charlie cut through the angry words, but George held up a hand to speak again.

“I’ll beg. I don’t beg much, you know that. You’ll kill him and as good as kill yourself.”

 

George’s absoluteness shocked Ron. His brother often laughed, joked airily about serious situations, but at that moment his face was firm with anger and his eyes were glaring.

 

“I’m sorry,” Ron muttered beneath his breath, fixing his eyes back on the beach –he couldn’t stand to look at the altered face for a moment longer.

 

There was a gentle hand in the small of his back which was warm and comforting; it came from the left, which meant that Charlie was reaching out to him. Sighing he looked over.

“Tell me, Charlie.”

“You were happy,” Charlie said quietly. “You trust me, don’t you Ron?”

 

He nodded without question. Charlie had never lied to him, never led him into anything which would hurt him –that had been Fred and George’s job. Charlie was the one who picked up the pieces when they broke him, or it had been that way when they were little. It seemed that very little had changed in the jump to adulthood.

 

“Then you have to listen to me, if you trust me, when I’m promising you that you were content. Your mind’s twisting stuff, Ron. Twisting everything to make you think about it over and over and giving you all these different answers which I don’t think you really believe. You’re scared, and I understand.”

“Really?” Ron muttered. “Do you?”

“Well, probably not completely, but I’m trying.”

 

_Unlike some people._

Ron immediately hated how it had dissolved into an ‘us and them’ situation. Wordlessly they doubled back on themselves, having reached the end of the beach. He felt pathetic wearing away at the sand over and over, but his legs were stuck in the motion and stopping would tear the ground from beneath his feet. He needed the repetition.

 

“But, despite all that,” Charlie said softly, reaching out for his hand and holding it as they walked. “You’re still my brother, Ron. And no matter what you choose to do, I’ll be by your side. If you want to stop, and make a new life for yourself, I’ll help, and I’ll leave my opinions at the door and support you.”

 

Ron shivered violently then, hearing the words he had had wondered if anybody in his family would ever say. Surprisingly they didn’t help as he had hoped they might. His stomach nudged closer to iciness and the wind was suddenly a lot colder than he remembered. Despite trying to help, Ron decided that his brothers had only confused him more. Subtly he glanced sideways at them both. George’s face was disapproving, fixed on a point in the distance which he seemed unwilling to look away from. Charlie’s eyes were bright even in the darkness, and he still had hold of Ron’s hand. It was the only warmth he could feel on his body.

 

Something the burly dragon keeper had told him suddenly reared in his mind. He stopped dead, his fingers falling out of Charlie’s and the two men carried on for a few steps before they realised that he wasn’t with them. Turning, both of their freckled faces were illuminated in the moonlight. Charlie was worried and George was angry. Ron felt worse for what he was about to do, but he knew that, no matter how many times he slouched up and down the beach, he was never going to get to the end of it on his own.

 

Wordlessly he held out his arm which had hold of the potion in a cold hand, and turned his palm up to the sky. The bottle sat there and both of their eyes homed in on it, but neither man moved, or even chanced to glance at his face. Ron understood their hesitation, but just as surely as he knew that, he knew that the decision was too much for him. He turned his hand again and let the bottle thump to the sand. It bounced. One of them gasped.

 

“I trust you, Charlie,” he said finally. “I’m just so fucking confused. I know I’m an adult, and I know I’m meant to make this choice by myself. But I can’t. I can’t do it. It feels like I’m my own executioner.”

“Justice feels dirty in your hands,” George muttered beneath his breath.

 

Ron frowned. The words were oddly familiar. “What?”

“You said that to me once,” George buried his hands deep into his jeans pocket. “About being an Auror. You said that you felt dirty about deciding other people’s fate… that by catching them, even if they deserved it, you didn’t feel right doing it… you said you were too small… to decide someone’s fate.”

“Apparently that counts for my own, as well,” Ron breathed bitterly, and turned away from them both to plop onto the sand. His joints ached.

 

There was silence for a while, as he looked at the sea, and, he presumed, his brothers looked either at the bottle or at his hunched form sitting at their feet. Then there was a gentle hand in his hair, the touch too tender for what should have been shared between brothers. The fingers caressed him before disappearing. A loud crack told him that one of them had left.

 

Charlie moved into Ron’s vision, the bottle held loosely in his fingers; he sat down and held it palm-up to the sky.

 

“Do it for me, Charlie,” Ron whispered. “This isn’t me. This is an imposter, I guess. Do what the real me would do. Please.”

 

Ron heard the gentle sucking in of breath, the only audible evidence of Charlie’s presence, and he looked out at the sea. It was always so calm. Did the sea never get angry in their part of the coast; did it never pound on the beach and wash up seaweed and tiny crustaceans with no hope surviving against the waves?

 

_No, because it’s too fucking perfect for that._

 

Resenting the perfection wasn’t about to bring him an epiphany. Ron had handed the potion away so that somebody else could give him one in return. But Charlie’s silence made his heart thump painfully in his chest.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the potion lift up and assumed that Charlie was looking at the colour, the way the moonlight caught it through the bottle and turned it a paler shade of pink. The surface was pearly; it probably would have been beautiful had it not represented what it did.

 

_That sounds like something Severus would say –you wouldn’t say a potion was beautiful. Liquid’s liquid. Gods._

 

Suddenly he was tired and a yawn erupted from his lips. He looked at Charlie. “Just do it, Charlie.”

“Why are you _asking_ me to do it, when you’re sitting there _telling_ me to do it…?” Charlie breathed. “Do you just want somebody to blame if it goes wrong? If it messes everything up?”

“Maybe,” Ron shrugged.

“It feels wrong,” Charlie’s eyes narrowed at the bottle.

“It’s all wrong,” Ron offered glumly. “Nothing’s right, that’s for sure.”

“It feels like I’m forcing you…”

“I’m asking you to do something for me that I can’t do…” Ron closed his eyes, trying to drive the point home. “If you can’t do it Charlie, give me the bottle back.”

“And if I give it back, what will you do with it?” Charlie hedged.

“ _I don’t know.”_

The desperate hiss churned his guts and Ron couldn’t bear it a second longer. He flung one hand out to snatch the potion from Charlie’s palm, but the thick fingers closed and it was lifted out of his reach. A sob floated out of his throat and Ron felt his seams begin to creak with the pressure in his chest. Charlie’s fingers were suddenly on his face, guiding his head back and brushing the hair from his brow. The touches were every bit as tender as the one that George had bestowed on him before leaving; they felt too romantic. But Ron wasn’t going to complain.

 

“If you really didn’t want it… if you were so against trying…” Charlie eased the stopper from the neck of the bottle, and flicked it away. Ron saw it as the point of no return when he found he could no longer distinguish it from the sand.

 

It surprised him that he didn’t want to rail madly and cling to it.

 

“You just would have smashed it,” Charlie said softly. “When you arrived home and saw it, you just would have smashed it and left us.”

“If I could have gotten away…” Ron admitted painfully.

“But you couldn’t, and that’s as much fate as everything else,” Charlie assured him.

 

Ron saw the sense in that –enough sense to make him open his mouth.

  
“Ron, I have to believe you’re willing…”

“Believe what you want,” Ron shrugged, opening his eyes again.

“Ron…”

 

Infuriated, Ron reached out and grabbed hold of Charlie’s strong wrist. Without much effort he upended the bottle into his mouth, letting the thick texture coat his tongue and the inside of his cheeks. There was more of it than he had expected. He knew that should he have to make a second gulp he would falter.

 

The vanilla-like essence of the potion was pleasantly sweet as he closed his lips, and he tasted it willingly. It was nice, like eating a cake or licking the spoon as he made one, and he locked his eyes onto Charlie’s and swallowed it down.

 

The gulp was so large that the muscles in his throat complained, but Ron wouldn’t choke it back up. When it was gone, the taste remained. He smoothed his tongue around his teeth, making sure to catch every last drop. The bottle was suddenly empty and unassuming, he felt foolish that he had been physically terrified of it for at least an hour.

 

Charlie was watching him closely, his amber-brown eyes stalking every facial expression that Ron made.

 

“How does it work again?” he coughed slightly, reaching up to rub at his lips even though there was no excess there. “He told me but I…”

“He never really told me… Bill knew and I should have brought him, I’m not-”

“No,” Ron shook his head adamantly, his heart beginning to sink when absolutely nothing changed as they sped towards the one minute mark. “It had to be you. For me, it’s always you.”

 

An uncharacteristic blush spread over Charlie’s cheeks as the words registered, and he dropped his gaze to the sand. “You can blame me,” he murmured. “If it all goes tits up, and there’s nothing left, nothing to work at…you can blame me.”

“I won’t,” Ron assured him. “But the offer means a lot.”

 

They said nothing then and Ron waited, his body on edge waiting for the first signs of abnormality. He’d not thought about how the potion would unlock him, if there was anything left to unlock. He remembered enough to know that the chemicals formed within the brewed potion would travel through his blood stream and aim for his brain. It shouldn’t have worked, but then it was no ordinary potion. He had heard Severus talking to himself about the charms to cast on the liquid, which ones were safe to include. He knew that a few unique spells had gone into the potion which were not recommended by the book, spells which his over-intelligent husband, and equally brilliant best friend, had dragged from nowhere to add to his salvation. The spells would combine with the potion ingredients and attack the neurons in his brain, to try and strengthen them again.

 

“Anything?” Charlie didn’t look at him.

“Nope,” Ron frowned, concentrating hard –though on what, he had absolutely no idea.

 

“Maybe it just takes a bit of time…” Charlie mused aloud.

 

Ron didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. The nausea, tension and worry released from his body, because that was what happened when someone passed out. Ron was happy to wave goodbye to it all, and welcomed the darkness.

 

***

Someone had stuffed his head with cotton wool again, Ron was sure of it. He was tired but warm, resting on something which was beautifully soft on his spine. Fluffiness was layered over him, with an extra concentration of heat curled by his leg. There was also the motion of stroking over the back of his left hand, a rough thumb caressing his knuckles over and over. It was nice, but Ron remembered it was not the first time he had been in that position recently. It felt like there should be two hands stroking him, providing him with comfort. The fact that there was only one worried him.

 

His mind felt healthier than when he had last been lucid, as though someone had been in and freshened up the dusty corners, pulled back the curtains and let the proverbial room air whilst he slept. It was full of images which he knew had been missing when he’d passed out.

 

The potion had very obviously worked. Cautiously he began to peer through the visions, to see memories that he had never known he’d had. It felt like someone had installed a personal player into his mind and given him somebody else’s home-recorded films to watch.

 

It was disorientating to have them all laid out before him. He wished they would sink into the ether and only come when he called them. He saw himself looking at Severus; the man was asleep, resting on his side with one arm hooked up beneath his pillow. His mouth was open and he was drooling, and snoring, but Ron could tell that didn’t matter. The memory had warmth attached to it. It flooded him and took him over until a shiver passed through his body.

 

But as quick as it came, the images morphed and Ron found himself startled. Those that he looked at could not have been memories that Severus knew he had held, because the images were frightening. Ron saw the deathly white colour of the man’s skin, saw the haphazard position of his body. There was blood, rich and spreading over a floor. He was confused –as far as he knew the method Severus had attempted suicide through poisoning and nothing else. It was only when his mind attached the fear to the image that Ron realised he was viewing his _own_ fear and insecurity of how _else_ he might find the man he loved dying.

 

It was bleak; he shoved it away and tried to select another. The nerves in his gut made him feel sick, the thought of finding Severus dead in such a way. It was burning him. Suddenly he remembered candlelight, the thrum of what he thought as completely cheesy jazz music as a backdrop to obvious intimacy.

 

 _“This music is bloody awful,”_ Severus complained, taking a sip of wine.

 _“Romantic, aren’t you?”_ Ron saw himself raise an exasperated eyebrow. _“Shut up and enjoy your food, you miserable bastard.”_

 

Severus’ smile lit up the room. He was beautiful. Ron remembered him only being tolerable.

 

“Ron, are you awake? Why’re you smiling?”

  
Was he smiling? Ron didn’t know. He cautiously opened his eyes and blinked at the room –the bedroom he had shared with Severus, and searched around for Charlie. His brother was pale beneath the blanket of freckles, and Ron found a grin for him, too. He felt so light.

 

“So?” Charlie asked apprehensively, a crease forming in his brow which Ron hated. Charlie never frowned; he was always happy, nearly always smiling or joking. He hated that he had been the one to put such a mar on the perfect face.

“Hey,” he murmured. “How long’ve I been…”

“Is it all back?” Charlie asked again.

“It’s back,” Ron looked up at the ceiling, moving his eyes around and enjoying the way his mind felt full, even if he knew he had to be imagining it.

 

“Are you serious?” Charlie half-yelped, jumping to his feet. “Fucking hell!”

“Mm,” Ron nodded, knowing he sounded unenthusiastic and spaced, but it was all he could manage. Images exploded in front of his eyes and they were distracting.

“So, where is he?” Charlie dropped onto the edge of the bed and looked into Ron’s face. “Where’s Severus, so we can find him and bring him back?”

 

Ron smiled at the ease of which he called up the memory. He saw a perfect blue sky, imagined heat on his skin. A house in golden countryside. “In Italy,” he didn’t know how the knowledge crept to his lips. “Lucca, in a house near there. Fucking hell it’s amazing.”

“Tell me,” Charlie demanded.

“Smallish, cosy… kind of like Bill and Fleur’s but the scenery is… amazing. Space for the car.”

“And you own it?”

“We own it,” Ron nodded, blinking at the ceiling. “I could write the exact address if you got me a quill, I think.”

 

Charlie’s face was emotional, he didn’t move from the bed. “I don’t think you’re going to be well enough to go,” he landed what he thought was a blow softly. “If you tell me, I’ll get the first portkey I can overseas and start from there. I’ll find him for you.”

 

It wasn’t a blow. Ron felt he would be content to lie in the bed and peruse the treasure which had come back to him so easily. He realised at that moment how convinced he had been that the potion would fail.

 

“I can’t believe it worked,” Charlie breathed again, reaching up to drag a hand through his hair. “I actually thought that we’d…”

“So did I,” Ron murmured. “So did he. Why do you think he left?”

“Well now you can… you can pick up where you left off.”

 

Charlie didn’t hide his joy well at all. Ron heard the happiness which had taken hold in his tone. More than anything, Ron wished he could share it.

 

He looked through more of the returned memories in silence, letting Charlie look at him and hold his hand. Ron felt attached warmth, sadness, fear, anger, sexual stimulation –he felt everything that the memories should have evoked. But they were not his own emotions. His heart began to slow as he realised that, even with the memories, he did not view them with the same happiness as he had when he’d created them.

 

It was a crushing blow to comprehend that he was in no better a position than he was before he’d asked Charlie for his help on the beach earlier that evening. Severus was beautiful in his mind, and he could tell that when the man walked through the door that he would want to hug him, possibly even _need_ to. But the sentiment was confusing. Was it his, or was it what the memories evoked? And, if it was the latter, would Severus tolerate that?

 

Ron knew, without a doubt, that he would opt to stay with Severus. It wasn’t a sense of duty, or a sense of despair knowing that he would get nothing better. Everything he had feared, that his happiness had been a lie, that he had _settled_ at the age of twenty for a man twice his age, was gone. He knew that nobody had lied to him, that he had truly been content in the arms of Severus Snape when he was held. The house, the marriage, the dog, everything was real, so very real in his mind with the aide of the memories which had rushed back to him.

 

Apart from the potion killing him, Ron had known that whichever outcome came from him drinking it would lead to a lot of hard work. Everyone else seemed to think it would be easy, but Ron had never expected the brew to return his sense of normality, or his health. Just from laying still and listening to his own breath and feeling his pulse he knew that physically, nothing had changed. He was just as broken as he had been on the beach.

 

“Ron?” Charlie leaned over his face. “Are you alright? You look like you’re slipping away a little bit…”

“I’m not,” Ron shook his head. “I’m not I’m just…”

“So… should I go?” Charlie looked at the door. “I can probably still make the last ‘keys before midnight, and I want to get there for the morning…”

 

Charlie was so willing to help him, Ron saw. So willing to make a trip across the continent that he didn’t need to make. Charlie would do anything for him and had proved it that evening. Ron was overcome with a sense of debt and gratitude which belittled everything else in his mind. He clutched hold of the hand still holding his and lifted his eyes.

  
“Charlie, I’m sorry,” he blinked, feeling moisture dampening his eyes. “I’m sorry; I should never have asked you to do that… the responsibility should have been mine.”

“Well it’s too late now,” he shrugged. “And I hope that… you would have done the same for me.”

 

The body eased up from the bed and released Ron’s hand, though he clung on to it.

 

“What?” Charlie frowned, looking down.

“I really need to speak to Severus before I can say anything,” Ron swallowed. “So can you… just do one more thing and be really, really quick? Send him a Patronus –he asked me not to send one if the potion wasn’t successful, but…”

“But it has been,” Charlie was obviously confused. “So I can send it for you.”

 

Ron thought about explaining, but Severus was really the only person he owed that explanation to. He shook his head.

 

“Just bring him back, and then… then we’ll talk, Charlie.”

“Alright,” Charlie bent and gave him a protective kiss on the forehead.

 

Guilt exploded in Ron’s mind –it should not have been Charlie there, lovingly kissing him on the forehead in his convalescence. It should have been Severus, and to feel another man’s lips, even his brother’s, felt like a complete betrayal.

“Stop!” he gasped, jerking his head away from the lingering mouth. “No, Charlie…”

 

“I shouldn’t leave you like this,” Charlie said immediately, pulling his wand from his jeans.  
“No, don’t bring anyone round,” Ron begged, his mind blurring with the intensity of the new information battering him from all sides. “I’m fine, I can be by myself but if I can’t go and get Severus, then I need you to do it. I don’t want to see anyone but him. Do you understand?”

 

His voice had risen to a hysterical level Ron hadn’t performed since the first few weeks after his accident. Charlie’s eyes were wide and scared, but Ron was counting on the fact that Charlie knew him better than anybody else in the family.

 

“Remember when I was little,” he ground out, slamming his eyes shut and searching further back for the memory. “When I couldn’t have anybody but you read me the story with the witch and the talking unicorn?”

“Like I’d forget,” Charlie breathed. “I’ll be able to recite those words on my death bed.”

“Right, this is like that, I can’t speak to anyone else before I speak to Severus… it’s just…”

“I’m going,” Charlie said, and without another word, he left the bedroom.

 

Ron fought to calm himself down, trying to stop his thumping pulse. It was loud in his ears.

 

Nobody had thought to explain what it would be like to have the rush of memories back. When they evoked emotion within him, Ron didn’t know if that was his body subconsciously attaching them, guessing what they _thought_ were the right sentiments, or whether they were actually real.

 

In which case, he had been happy to see Severus smile and sleep, he had been scared of finding the man dead, and as he blushed remembering himself draped face-first over the sofa whilst Severus fucked him, he was turned on by him, too.

 

Nobody had explained, nobody had really looked beyond the potion working, and that made him angry. They had all been so desperate for it to work that the actual mechanics had been left out.

 

_Or you switched off and ignored it all._

Ron blushed deeper knowing that it was a very real possibility that he had done so. In those first days he had been so numb that nothing sank in, from a simple request asking him how he felt to the more complex question of what he fancied for dinner. He vainly searched the memories to see if he could find anything, to see if someone had told him and he had stored the information but not really processed it, but there was nothing, as he expected.

  
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, dragging his hands up to rub them over his face.

 

By the time Severus came home, he would need to have formulated a decision, and an explanation. His mind hurt far too much to contemplate any of it. All he wanted to do, he realised, was lay there and look through the past five years of his life and catch up on what he had missed. He wanted to see his own recollections of the day on the foreign beach, where Severus had sat and watched him swim in the sea, and experience the kiss that they had shared afterward for himself. He wanted to _remember_ decorating the house and the trips to buy furniture which Severus had loathed.

 

He _wanted_ to remember everything, and the feeling of curiosity unsettled him.

 

Ron closed his eyes, and breathed slowly in and out of his lungs. He planned to start from the beginning, if he could. He had never thought himself to be particularly good at memory recall. At school he forgot homework, at home he forgot promises of housekeeping made to his mother. At work he forgot important reports and pulled them out of his backside at the last moment.

 

But there in his mind was everything he needed to know, including things that nobody had ever told him about. He would just have to hope that wanting to think about the subjects would bring the right memories back.

 

He would be lost, otherwise.

 

 _More lost,_ his over-brimming mind corrected.

 

Ron ignored it and closed his eyes. Severus was there, in his mind again.

 

_Where he always should have been._

With a clenching stomach, Ron let himself fall into his past.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, language, fluff, first person, *sex -anal, oral*

The door closed behind Charlie for a second time, and Ron winced at the fact that he had pushed his brother out so quickly that he’d forgotten to actually give him a more detailed location for the house in Italy. It was testament to how focused Charlie was on giving him what he wanted that the poor man made it halfway to the Portkey Station before he realised he didn’t know his destination.

 

The house was taunting Ron. It was absolutely stunning, a traditional rustic cottage in the middle of the Tuscan countryside, and there was nothing he would change about it.

 

_Apart from being in it at the minute, maybe._

 

Since Charlie had left the first time, he had been overcome with the longing to make the journey himself. Whatever had to be said between him and Severus, surely it would have all been made better by a stunning view and glorious Italian sunshine?

 

He laughed at himself, sniffing through his snotty nose. When he’d begun crying, Ron wasn’t particularly sure, but he had a feeling it was somewhere between his wedding vows and Severus presenting him with Archie.

 

Ron didn’t know why nobody had thought to tell him he’d named his car. More than anything he was staggered to see that the vehicle had been a gift for his twenty-first birthday.

 

_Who gives presents like that? Who?_

 

His frugal upbringing was working against him; he was simply amazed that Severus would buy him something like that, and just out of pure love. There was no element of buying affection because Ron could see that he had already given that to the wizard in droves.

 

 _“I promise I won’t push for your expulsion should you fly this one,”_ Severus had said, wrapping his arms tightly around Ron’s waist.

 _“So, I can fly it then?”_ Ron saw his own eyes light up.

Severus’ glare was legendary. Ron laughed at himself laughing, and shook his head. Bramble was still curled up by his leg, his dark eyes warily looking at Ron every time he moved or laughed or sniffed. It was as though Severus had left him another barrier of protection in the form of a sturdy terrier.

 

Ron could see how he’d fallen in love with the dog. How he’d been torn when the owner passed away but thrilled because it meant he’d get to lay keeps on Bramble. Severus and the dog surprised him the most –it was very obvious that Severus was every bit as smitten with the animal as Ron had been.

 

_And that’s what you get for selective memory-telling. Cheeky sod._

 

He froze then, hearing the unmistakable sound of the front door swinging open and closing. It squealed. Ron knew he’d made Severus leave it that way so that they’d hear anybody entering.

 

 _“Yes, because five sensory charms, a guard dog and a trip jinx isn’t enough…”_ Severus spoke into his head.

 

Ron wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the instant availability of the memories.

 

“Charlie?” he called out, throwing back the cover and gently easing his legs over the side of the bed. He probably shouldn’t have been up and walking, but it was odd for Charlie to have returned so quickly. Snatching up his wand he made surprising progress to the door.

 

Whoever was in the house was quiet, remaining on the lower level, and as Ron started down the stairs, the first prickling of fear caused sweat to form in the small of his back. Gripping the banister he carried on, his eyes fixed on the point where he would first see an attacker, but when a body moved to the space, his gasp was not of fear, but of shock.

 

“Severus?”

“Hello,” the voice was guilty, roughened and hurting.

“Fucking hell, did Charlie really reach you that quickly?” Ron kept moving down the stairs.  
“Charlie?” Severus frowned. “No, I’ve been travelling for about two hours. I… regretted my decision to leave.”

 

Ron just stared as he made it to the bottom step, which took him into Severus’ personal space. Their chests touched.

 

“You came back for me?” Ron breathed.

“Leaving was cowardly,” Severus’ eyes dropped between them.

“No it wasn’t,” Ron couldn’t help that his hands sprang up and pressed into the dark-clad chest, feeling the heat of the body beneath it. “No, Severus, I completely understood and I…”

“I think I will come to regard it as the most cowardly thing I have ever done in my life,” Severus whispered.

 

Ron swallowed. Severus had not mentioned the potion at all and he was afraid to be the one to do so. As such their touches were no different to the ones they had grown used to sharing over the past month. There was nothing to give him away.

 

Except his own mouth, of course.

 

“I took the potion,” he said, lifting his eyes so that he could look into Severus’. He was surprised he could distinguish the widening pupils from the onyx irises –he had the feeling the ability came with the added knowledge in his mind.

“And?” the word was abrupt.

“I remember,” Ron licked his lips. “Falling off a ladder, right _there_ ,” he pointed along the hallway, “And breaking my wrist. I was trying to paint the ceiling.”

 

Every last drop of colour had drained from Severus’ face as his eyes grew round with shock and his jaw dropped. Ron blinked once and continued.

 

“I remember you giving me Archie,” he smiled at the name, thinking of the car. “And I remember that you’re a complete sucker for fish and chips and that you’ll never get a roll from the chip shop because they’re always rock hard –you always used to make me walk ten minutes out of my way to the bakers just so you could make a fucking chip sandwich.”

 

It was hard to stop his own voice rising with excitement, which meant it was doubly hard to prevent it from rising in Severus’ expression. It was even harder to deliver the words which would extinguish the hope, if only for a little while.

 

“We need to talk,” Ron cleared his throat.

“But this is –Merlin’s cock I really thought that we’d have to-”

“I know you did,” Ron reached up and put his hand on Severus’ cheek. “I know, otherwise you would never have left.”

 

Where Severus had previously blanched white, at those words his face flooded red with bitter embarrassment. He looked away, pursing his lips, and Ron sighed.

  
“We need to talk, and I need to sit down,” he groaned, and went when Severus removed his hand from his cheek and led him into the sitting room with it.

“I’m in complete shock,” Severus admitted as they both perched stiffly on the sofa. “I honestly thought that…”

 

Ron held up his fingers to silence him and Severus obeyed, his eyes glued to Ron’s face. The dark orbs were more emotive than Ron had ever seen them before. The immense happiness cut through to his heart and wrapped around it. He wondered how Severus was restraining himself.

 

“My memories are all back,” Ron breathed. “Everything. I’ve just sent poor fucking Charlie off to Italy to bring you back, as he didn’t think I’d be well enough to go by myself…  can you send him a Patronus for me? He said he’d send you one but I guess he either forgot or…”

 

Severus didn’t say another word; he pulled his wand out and cast the spell, programming his message into the doe silently. Ron looked at the glittering beauty and wondered, if Severus loved him so very much, why the animal hadn’t changed into his own form –the Jack Russell terrier with the cheeky canine grin.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Severus lowered his wand. “Why it never changed?”

“You’ve got me,” Ron muttered.

“I think the fabric of me was too irrevocably damaged for it to change again,” the wand was placed on the coffee table. “You understood that.”

 

Severus seemed to realise what he had just been forced to explain at the same time that Ron realised that he had given himself away. Horror washed away the happiness and Severus jumped immediately to his feet.

 

“What the fucking hell are you doing?” he yelled, anger sweeping through the living room. “Do you mean to tell me that I’ve come all the way here just to have you rip me to shreds all over again?”

“No, Severus, I-”

“Are you lying? Did someone tell you those things so that you could just lie, never take the potion, and I’d be none the wiser?”

“No!” Ron shook his head violently.

“You cruel, selfish little _bastard_ ,” Severus’ words cut as they landed, and Ron wondered if he was actually bleeding.

 

Hearing them hurt more than he had thought they ever would. At times he had thought that, if Severus ever started on him, he would scream back and leave, slamming the door behind him and rid himself of a very big problem in a very simple manner. But his actual response couldn’t have been further from his imagination.

 

“No, listen to me,” he sprung as quickly as he could to his feet. “I said we needed to talk and we do –don’t go, Severus!”

 

The slender form had already marched to the open doorway of the room. Ron could see the man trembling from where he stood, a good six feet away, and he wondered if the anger would explode again.

 

Seeing the trembling limbs and imagining the twisted face, Ron felt guilty. He swallowed, thinking of all the other ways he could have broached the conversation –how he could have gently let the man into the secret of his apparent return.

 

_You really are a selfish bastard._

 

If Ron needed one last affirmation that Severus loved him, and always would, the distress he saw in the man at that moment fulfilled the notion in scores.

 

He propelled himself across the room before he really thought about what he was doing, and threw his arms around Severus’ neck. There was a grunt of surprise but, to Ron’s, the man didn’t struggle away from him. There was such strong apprehension radiating from Severus’ form that Ron immediately felt sick.

 

“I can’t stop you from leaving,” Ron whispered in his ear. “I can’t because I’m half a wizard now, and I couldn’t chase you… but Severus…”

 

He trailed off, searching for the way to show him, the way to explain what was going on in his mind. Severus simply stood there, half-mauled, and waited.

 

“I remember you,” Ron started again, noticing the croak in his tone. “I remember what I loved about you –your body, your sense of humour… what it felt like when you fucked me.” The closeness of their bodies seemed to intensify at his words. “I remember what it felt like to almost lose you, what it was like to marry you and have your hand in mine.”

 

Severus was calming down; Ron could almost hear his heartbeat slowing to a normal rate. He knew he might well go to hell for what he was about to say to the man, for the piercing and yet loving images it would conjure, but he needed to thrash his point home before he could continue.

 

“I remember,” he lowered his voice to a deep rumble, and directed it straight into Severus’ ear canal, “What your come tastes like.”

“You… you truthfully remember that?” Severus murmured back to him.

“Salty, but surprisingly sweet, I couldn’t get enough of it.”

 

Ron shivered, waiting. Severus didn’t make a sound.

 

“But then… if you remember, where do we stand?” he whispered finally.

 

Ron released him, taking a step back before turning Severus around with his hands. He left them on the narrow shoulders, clasping them with his fingers.

 

“I remember these things, and I remember what I felt when we made them,” he took a step closer, blinking away unruly moisture in his eyes. “But it’s… so strange. I have them but it’s like having a pensieve in my head, I’m watching them, and I recognise the feelings in them… but they don’t feel like they’re mine.”

 

“Where do we stand?” Severus ground out again, his face a chaotic mess of fear, anger, hurt and hope.

“I couldn’t lie to you,” Ron felt the first spill of tears and ignored them. “Because _he_ wouldn’t have. And because I couldn’t have lived a lie, either. Pretending something for so long is… hard…”

 

The memories aided him in his choice of words, remembering the apparently few conversations he had ever managed to entice Severus into regarding his dubious past. The overwhelming theme was the pressure. He wondered if what he was doing was manipulation, but he really couldn’t see any other way to keep Severus in the room.

 

“Nor should you have to,” Severus sighed, and Ron choked at the feel of warm hands on his sides. Charlie must have changed him into his pyjamas; the cotton was only thin and Severus was an automatic boiler to his system.

“But now, Severus, I’m not pretending,” he leant forward and brushed his nose against Severus’. “I know that I loved you. And I know that I can love you again but it’s… time. I need time. With these memories and you, to make up _my_ versions of them. I need to experience the life again.”

 

Severus was working hard to prevent his lower lip from trembling, and it was obvious. Ron pleaded desperately with his eyes and he wondered how, after everything they had been through, it was now _him_ that was begging for a chance.

 

“I don’t want…” Severus began, but his voice failed him. He cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to get thirty years down the line and regret your decision,” he closed his eyes. “I was always afraid of that. That one day you would wake up and regret spending your life with a man so much older than you, so different. Someone sexually set in his ways and even more so in his daily life…”

“I don’t think I would have,” Ron slid closer, so that they were almost lip-to-lip.

 

“If you try to leave me again, Ron…” Severus stopped. Ron gave him a gentle squeeze on the waist. “That’s the end of me. That’s not emotional blackmail, it’s the truth. Do you understand?”

 

Those words sparked a sense of devotion in Ron that he wasn’t sure he had ever felt in his life. He had been loyal to Harry, followed him to what seemed like an unquestionable death and lost his teenage years because of it. But it was nothing like the sense of worship thrumming between them as they stood there.

 

“But I’m going to change…” Ron whispered. “I’m not sure that I… I won’t be the same. I don’t know if I’ll ever be _exactly_ the man that you loved again.”

“You were never any different,” Severus answered him. “Same face, same eyes, same damnable smile… the little things you did which made you _you_ were still there and I… I have felt terrible for the way I probably made you feel as though you were not good enough for me as you were.”

“Why shouldn’t you have wanted more, though?” Ron shrugged. “You had everything taken away from you and I understand. I more than understand. I lived it. We’re in this together.”

 

“Where’s this fight coming from?” Severus slowly opened his eyes, looking up at Ron warily.

“Why now?”

“Some things you just know,” Ron licked his lips. “And I know that… me being me… if I didn’t want to try, I would have gone out of my way to trash the potions. I’m a stubborn prick. You know it, I know it and… seeing all these things in my head, they make me love you, and I don’t love you, and…”

 

He trailed off. He was beyond making sense –maybe they were both long past that ranking of normality. Ron sucked in a nervous breath and shrugged his shoulders. He was done. He didn’t feel as though he could lay any more cards on the table, because he had absolutely nothing left to play.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” Severus whispered finally.

“I don’t either,” Ron shook his head. “And Severus, I can’t say ‘never’. I don’t control fate. The attack proves it but fuck…I can try.”

“You don’t feel like you’re selling yourself short?”

“I think these are those self-destructive tendencies Bill told me about, that first day… the ones that I remember making you not take your clothes off the first three times we fucked.”

 

“Do you blame me?” there was a tremor to the words.

“No,” Ron promised, another splash of tears hitting his cheeks.

 

There seemed like nothing else to do but cross the one millimetre separating their lips and kiss his husband. Ron felt relief when those lips immediately responded to him and fingers splayed on his back, pressing him closer to Severus’ warm chest.

 

The kiss was every bit as intense as the one they had suffered the interruption of that morning. It felt as though the embrace had been days ago; the turmoil in between the two bookends had torched the before to nothing. But the after, Ron heard himself moan gently into Severus’ mouth, was pulling at his body. His cock was already awake, hard and willing as it pressed against an equally aroused groin.

 

His mouth was released and the kisses transferred to the skin of his face, coating his cheeks, nose, eyelids, chin and ears with gentle dry caresses; they were made wet by the tears which continued to fall from his eyes.

 

When Severus pushed him back, Ron went without protest, trusting him implicitly to guide his body around the furniture. They struggled by the sofa, Severus wanting Ron to fall back on it and Ron wanting to remain standing, to touch at equal height. He carted around, dragging Severus with him, but only served to knock into the arm. His hip ached and Ron didn’t bother to fight as his legs folded beneath him. Severus didn’t drop him but followed Ron down onto the carpet, cushioning his head and never breaking their kiss.

 

It was the first instance that Ron could remember since the accident that such physical limitation hadn’t bothered him. Falling as he had would normally have ripped him to shreds, made him angry, made him bitter about the state of his life –but that time, there was nothing except Severus, and their kiss.

 

_Why would I ever need to look for anything else?_

 

The thought pressed fresh desire through his veins. Severus had covered his body and was on all fours over him, kissing with a hardworking jaw and even busier tongue. They were huffing through their noses with the effort to breathe and Ron gave way first, jerking to the side to gasp through his lips. Severus stared down at him, his eyes searching for a permission which Ron automatically knew he would grant.

 

He had kept Severus waiting long enough.

 

“Evanesco,” the word was a gentle mutter and Ron saw the clothes melt away from Severus’ body. He was naked too, the carpet soft beneath his back, arse and thighs.

 

The kisses returned, but they were not restricted to his face. Severus slowly moved, worshipping the skin of Ron’s throat and neck before smoothing along one collarbone, and then the other. His chest had the same gentle praise lavished upon it, the mouth leaving a tingling spot everywhere it touched. His nipples were lightly sucked, and the wetness which lingered made them harden in the cool air once Severus moved on.

 

His belly, softer than it had ever been in his life, was next. Severus took his time there, nosing through the gentle fuzz which trailed from his navel. A lick scooped into the dip before he moved on again and Ron tensed, waiting for the sensation on his groin. When the kisses transferred to his thigh, instead of his cock, he moaned his impatience. His reward was a small snort of amusement from Severus, who, in means of placation, began to rub tantalisingly at the inside of Ron’s other thigh.

 

It only maddened him more. He shivered when the kisses reached his ankle bone, his mind blurring out everything else which was assaulting it. He only wanted to focus on what was happening –the memory he was currently making. His toes flexed as his foot was lifted slightly, and a gentle lick scraped their underside. Ron was sure nothing had ever felt as delicious as that and his cock began to throb. Severus set the foot down as softly as one would a precious antique, and moved to the other, starting from the bottom up. By the time that he was level with Ron’s crotch again, there was a sticky mess forming at the head of the redhead’s cock, and Ron would have begged.

 

As it happened, there was no need. Severus shot him one final, piercing look before ducking his head and kissing onto the desperate erection beneath his chin. Blood pounded in Ron’s ears and he wanted to know if there was any chance his body had degenerated back to his fifteen-year-old self. He was already fighting his climax, which had built in his balls from the first kiss on his foot. Blushing, he muttered his warning to Severus, who ignored him.

 

The licks were subtle but strong, pushing aside his foreskin with every swipe. His fingers clenched at thin air and he suddenly remembered that he didn’t have to remain still. They sank into Severus’ hair without protest, winding around the silk and tugging slightly. Severus’ breath happily hitched in a gasp, but he did not let it deter him from his task.

 

When the lips sucked him inside Severus’ mouth, Ron didn’t fight. If he was anything, he was tired of fighting. He happily let himself arch upward, ignoring the ache in his spine, and moaned through the orgasm he spilt onto the waiting tongue. It felt so right that when he heard Severus’ deep gulp, his shuddered with pleasure and mewled. The idea that his come was sliding down another man’s throat –Severus’ throat at that, was too much to fight. He wanted to do it over and over again.

 

There were filthy slurping sounds and Severus then moved, crawling up over his body to look down into his sweaty face. Ron blinked back up, unable to find the words, though he accepted the kiss on the lips when it came. Severus lowered down on top of him and Ron couldn’t speak.

 

A memory burst into vivid colour at that moment, taking over all other thought processes. Ron concentrated, wondering what his mind was trying to show him.

 

 _“I know that you’re nervous…”_ Ron spoke softly. _“Not more than me though.”_

 _“Why would you be nervous?”_ Severus asked exasperatedly. _“You’re young; you’ve not got twenty years extra of softening muscles to your detriment… I am quite certain that when you take your clothes off, you will look like a God, and I will look the lowest mortal next to you.”  
“Shut up,”_ Ron rolled his eyes. _“And take your kecks off.”_

 

However forward Ron could see himself to be, the butterflies which sprang into his tummy in association with the memory told him just how anxious he had actually been to sleep with Severus for the first time. They had _both_ been nervous.

 

Neither of them was nervous as they laid together in silence on the living room floor, however. It was their first time all over again, but there was older knowledge there. Older knowledge which quelled the original fears and made them, as a unit, stronger. He reached up and trailed the pad of his index finger over Severus’ lips. The man stayed still, despite the slight wince of his eye which told Ron that his touch tickled.

 

“My turn,” Ron whispered, and using what was probably the last of his strength for the evening, he managed to roll Severus onto his back.

 

Dark hair spilled in an oil slick over the cream carpet, falling back from Severus’ brow as Ron straddled him. His own spent cock met an erect one, and he shifted his hips back and forth to create some friction.

 

He looked up at the room. They were spread out in front of the fire, which was non-existent having never been lit, but he was hot enough as it was. His fingers jumped to relaxed shoulders and began to massage, instantly knowing that Severus loved to be touched in that way. The purr he received for his effort made him smile, and he dropped down for another kiss. Reaching for Severus’ hand, his heart began to thud. He placed it on his backside.

 

“Stretch me,” he murmured, shifting further up Severus’ torso that the man could reach.

 

The fingers kneaded his cheeks and slid into the crack, trailing down until they brushed over his entrance. Ron closed his eyes, waiting, hearing murmured spells and the patter of Severus’ wand as it landed back on the carpet again.

 

It had been a long time since he’d been touched; Ron hissed and winced as one finger pressed into him, slowly spreading him open. He was too high up to look into Severus’ face, but a kiss ghosted over his belly and it was enough to calm the pain.

 

_Kisses don’t stop pain, twat._

 

He growled at himself, trying to quiet his heart rate and relax. Severus took his time, working slowly with the one finger, pressing out the burn before he slid out. Two scorched deeper but Ron couldn’t open his mouth to beg for a break, for Severus to stop. He didn’t _want_ him to stop.

 

Two fingers scissored within his body, twisting and working him open, and morphed into three with only a squirm of impatience on his own behalf. Severus eventually just took to stroking in and out of him, brushing over the sweet spots which made him gasp.

 

It was Ron who eventually dragged his arse away from the touches, putting an end to the necessary foreplay. When he was looking back into Severus’ face, which sported a healthy blush and glittering eyes, he smiled, and kissed him.

 

“So…” he murmured, closing his eyes and reaching back, grasping Severus’ cock in his fingers. It was already perfectly greased and he shivered, feeling a throb of blood through the vein on the underside. Severus was hard for him, waiting. “I’m so sorry, Severus… that I kept you waiting so long.”

“There is nothing to apologise for,” Severus answered at once.

 

Sinking down onto the head, Ron felt something burst in the pit of his belly. It multiplied, the heat seeping through the rest of his body and tightening his chest until he couldn’t breathe. But it was not threatening, or even causing him to be fearful. Ron was more alive than he had ever been as he sank down onto Severus’ cock.

 

There was a broken groan and his eyes lowered to see the face, usually so strong and stoic, raw and broken. Severus’ eyes were tightly clamped together, causing his cheeks to have lifted and his nose, too large to remain unnoticed, had wrinkled.

 

It shouldn’t have been attractive, but Ron found himself hard again as he looked, devouring the sight of the sexual tension in the body that he sat on. The thought that _he_ had created such pressure made his head swim.

 

The curve of his arse cheeks finally brushed against a soft, hair-peppered sac and he choked slightly in surprise, dropping forward to try and kiss the grimace out of Severus’ lips.

 

“You are…” Severus opened his eyes and tried to speak, but Ron quite literally stole his breath away, by kissing and lifting his hips up and down. The moan was deep and he drank it to his core, smiling.

 

The smile wouldn’t budge from his lips, either. Ron worked into the best rhythm he could, though for him the sensation of being filled was enough. He didn’t need anything more, but he moved for Severus, who had clasped long fingers on Ron’s hips and was helping him move. The pace was Ron’s own, but the intensity was Severus’.

 

“Come in me,” Ron murmured, sucking Severus’ lower lip into his mouth. “Fill me up for the first time… again.”

 

Comprehension dawned in the dark eyes and Ron swallowed. Perhaps before that point Severus had not looked upon their meeting as a first, only a reunion and Ron wondered if he had perhaps offended him. But the strength which pushed him up to sitting, and the tightness of Severus’ arms, which wrapped around Ron’s waist as he too sat up, chased the doubt from his mind.

  
Ron felt his body lurch as Severus flung his legs wide, allowing his cock to stay buried in the young body it pleasured, but the steadying hands on his back stopped him from falling. The position was so intimate, with his penis squashed into Severus’ flat stomach and their lips crushed together as they sat there.

 

“Severus… I…” words fought to spring out of him, but he didn’t know if they were right just then, or yet, or if he had any right to say them at all –or ever again.

“I love you,” Severus gasped, beating him to it. “Enough for now…”

 

Ron thought he might pass out as the man yanked on his hips, slamming their bodies together for one last time as Severus bucked and came with a growl. He watched with wide eyes, seeing the orgasm shatter the thin body he sat on, and it was then he who had to catch, who had to provide support. Locking his arms around Severus’ back, his upper arms in the man’s armpits, Ron held on tight, feeling the burn in his arse and the pressure in his own cock. He didn’t care if he couldn’t come again, if the erection wilted to nothing –all that mattered was Severus, and soothing him through the aftershocks.

 

The role reversal shook him. Severus had been there for him throughout two months of agony and angst, and looked after Ron impeccably; to be presented with the opportunity to repay the debt left him floundering.

 

He let Severus press his face into his throat and nuzzled against his hair, kissing where he could; Ron murmured phrases of affection to which Severus’ only response was to cling on to him that little bit harder.

 

“Will you stay with me?” the hoarse whisper nearly broke Ron entirely. “This isn’t… the end?”

“It’s not the end,” Ron promised. “It couldn’t be. I need… we need each other.”

 

Severus pulled his head back. Ron almost couldn't look –he’d ignored the wetness as it dropped onto his skin, but when he saw the silent tears on Severus’ face, they were obvious, and to neglect them would have ruined everything. He reached up and used his thumb to wipe them away at the source.   
  
Severus just looked at him, saying nothing.

 

The atmosphere swum around them, thick, sensual, everything their first fuck had been and more. Ron didn’t expect the tightness in his throat but when it came he didn’t bother to deny it. He couldn’t see how else he could react to the moment, other than to become emotional, especially when Severus was sitting so raw and open in front of his eyes. It was so obviously a display which was only ever going to be for him.

 

Ron felt queasy when he thought of all the times he had caused those tears in the past months, all the times he had spurned them and felt frustrated with them. They hadn’t even appeared that often. Severus was stronger than he could have ever have been.

 

“What are we going to tell your family?” Severus whispered.

“The truth, no lies,” Ron shook his head. “This going to be…”

 

Severus just nodded and kissed him again, sucking on his tongue lightly as their noses clashed.

 

“I’m giving you once last chance…” Severus murmured then, and Ron nearly threw up in his face.

 

One last chance to be good, be a good husband? Ron couldn’t live with that –he would fail; he knew he would foul everything up.

 

“Oh you silly bastard,” Severus moaned. “I mean… I mean one last chance to back out. What we have just done is more than enough for a perfect parting memory, Ron, and I will understand if you feel… disappointed, in any way. That was not the best of either our abilities…”

“Really?” Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Felt pretty fucking great to me.”

 

Severus watched him closely.

 

“Not going anywhere,” Ron promised, nosing against him. “And I want to check my memory still works on the old… taste front,” he managed to wink. Severus didn’t laugh.

 

Ron felt the cock in his body slip from his passage and he immediately missed it. He had felt so full when Severus was inside him. So perfect.

 

“I need you to do something for me,” Ron carefully pulled back, loosening his arms and placing his hands into Severus’ hair.

“Anything, as always,” Severus searched his face.

“I need you to promise that you’re going to talk to me,” Ron bargained. “About everything. About things I do that upset you, fight with me, don’t wrap me up in cotton wool and fuck me like you used to fuck me… I want it to be normal between us, the normal that you’re used to…”

“And what about you?” Severus asked wearily.

“This is the only normal I know now,” Ron shrugged. “And when I’m not fighting you, and my brain, I like it, Severus. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

_Will you ever believe me?_

 

Ron was glad when Severus nodded at him, and murmured, “I don’t know about you… but I could do with half a bottle of brandy and going to bed. With you.”

 

Severus’ strength shocked Ron again, even though he’d seen it countless times, as the man gathered him properly in his arms and managed to stand with him held there.

 

“I can walk,” Ron smiled, swinging his legs down to the ground. He laced their fingers together as they began to move for the kitchen.

 

But he found that he was unwilling to tear his eyes away from the man’s face and body, as though he might disappear if he did. It took him a few moments longer to realise that he actually feared Severus leaving him. It nestled in his gut and grew and grew until he couldn’t bear it. They were in the hallway when he lost control, threw his arms around the slender body and slammed it into the wall.

 

“Don’t leave me,” he begged, too blinded by his tears to see how Severus was responding to his fear.

 

A gentle hand smoothed his hair away from his brow and Ron slumped forward, squashing Severus harder into the wall. The soothing gesture which had once annoyed him so much was beautiful on his flushed skin.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

The whisper cleared his senses, lifting his spirits higher than he remembered they could fly. He pressed his face into the hot throat and closed his eyes.

  
  
  
**Epilogue**

  
_I can’t remember if his red hair was ever that striking before, or if he looked as fucking enticing. His body is draped over the bed, finally asleep. It’s five in the morning and we have talked for hours. Just like he used to, Ron yawned when the first grey of dawn poked through the curtains, kissed me, and put his head down to rest._

_He always did like keeping me up all night._

_There are sheets half-covering his body, which is pale, less toned than he would like and his belly is softer, a little squishier. I am ecstatic –I was not lying when I told him I had always been worried about his weight._

_Smoothing one hand over the plane of his back, which is bare because the sheet is tangled around his waist, I look at his expression. He doesn’t know how many times I crept into the spare room to watch him rest in the time that we spent apart, and I can see how much sounder he sleeps tonight, as opposed to then._

_My fingertips slide down his arm, which is folded beside him onto the bed, his long fingers splayed over the cotton sheet. On his ring finger rests a gold band, but it is not his own._

_It is mine._

_His idea to swap touched my heart and warmed it beyond belief. I thought he would never look at them again, let alone ask to wear one. I understood his reasoning for the exchange, and I happily worked the ring, which I have never taken off, from my finger. He massaged the shiny skin beneath it and looked at me in awe._

_He should have known that, no matter what, I would never have removed it. His own version slid perfectly into place. Ron insisted on putting it there and I will confess to being more than slightly choked as I set mine onto his hand._

_There was a time when the thought of a new beginning such as this would have felled me, made me angry and discontent with my lot in life. I would have refused, thrown it away for the sake of my pride and obtuse need for control._

_I have never been able to control Ron, and thank God. Otherwise tonight I would lie alone, and miserable, and could never hope to feel his warmth again._

_We have many challenges ahead –his failing magic and physical ailments, I fear, will present more obstacles to his life and happiness, plus the difficulty of adjusting to the changes in our relationship will be something which we must both learn to cope with._

_But I stand by what I said. I am not going anywhere._

_I lace my fingers through his, and squeeze. Ron carries on sleeping. One of us should, because I know that I will not. Not until he wakes up again, and I am content this is not a hopeful figment of my imagination._

_Suddenly shifting, and murmuring my name, Ron blearily looks at me, before closing his eyes again and puckering his lips for a kiss._

_I give it to him, and he smiles. I smile back even though he cannot see me, and squeeze his hand again._

_-fin-_


End file.
